Night Games
by kuroren23
Summary: REVISED.He is Prince of the Coven and she is the one mortal fate declared to be his for all eternity. How can a proud prince find the one woman destined for him amidst betrayal, heartbreak, seduction and a love that will cross the boundaries of time?
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: TWILIGHT is a creation from the brilliant mind of Ms. Stephenie Meyer. I have no rights whatsoever where that tale is concerned--no matter how much I wish I did. I can just borrow her characters and place them in situations that i have concocted. Hey a writer can dream right?

AUTHORS NOTE: This was my very first story and as such it holds a great deal of significance for me. During various times, at certain points of writing this tale I found myself amused, wary, weary and very much attached to the tale. Often times though, I think I got lost but I've always believed that I would find the time to review what I have written and see if there is room for me to fix the errant and stray thoughts that invade what should have been a smoothly flowing story. Here is a revised version of chapter 1. I hope that this time around, it would come across a little clearer than it did the first time. I hope you'll enjoy it and as always, comments and suggestions are most welcome.

For KSANGI--you were the first to read this tale and gave me my first taste of hope. I pray that you would still be the first to comment on this version once more.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

**_"...For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human form, And Love , the human form divine; and Peace, the human dress._**

**_Cruelty has a Human Heart, and Jealousy a Human face; Terror the Human Form Divine and Secrecy the Human Dress..."_**

**_- William Blake, Songs of Experience_**

**_

* * *

  
_**

**Bloodstained Nights**

**Present, London, England...1837  
**

_The hunger is riding him…strong and fervent as when he felt for the first time the stirrings that marked his passage between slumber and awareness…that exact moment when he would open his eyes and feel the seduction of the night and he would be helpless once more against the siren call of those that dwell in the Savage Garden…_

_His hand trembled slightly…concealed beneath the fall of priceless, black lace that hid seemingly fragile wrists and fingers whose nails lengthened into crystalline talons... sensitive, delicate fingers clenching and flexing... already feeling the desperation for the feel of soft, warm yielding flesh…of fevered skin waiting to be pierced and torn apart. _

_There…a familiar and eagerly anticipated scent…the perfume of fresh prey…the unmistakable bouquet of someone tainted with the exquisite marking of sin…the hunt is about to begin…_

_A few minutes of flirtation and whispered titillating conversation in shadowed corners and he here was, following slowly the hulking figure in front of him as he was led to the darkened alleys on the seedier parts of London…his step sure and swift and light, never losing sight of his prey…a large hand clasped around his own, unaware and unmindful of the sharp claws that lie a mere hairsbreadth away from its vulnerable wrist._

_As always his shell served as the perfect lure. A whispered word, a heated glance and a shy retreat would always guarantee him a willing prey. And oftentimes as he hunted, the prey that takes his lure were gifted with beauty themselves, like this one, a vigorous man at the height of life, gifted with the sable colored hair and warm blue eyes. Witty and living in the midst of the privileged echelons, this night's prey was reared from the finest bloodstock of English that was not all there was to him. Oh no...the reasons that made him so suitable were none of those things.  
_

_A prey that satisfies his own peculiar and distinct palate must be one whose heart is blacker than a raven's wing and more poisoned than a witch's brew—a true connoisseur of the darkest human nature. This one, a minor lord of the realm and third in line for some obscure title in particular, made sport out of forcing himself on little boys. It was no surprise that this deprived child of the nobility gave in to the titillation he offered, the subtle challenge and all too willing innocence that he so convincingly portrayed. A warm, rosy blush suffused his beautiful face, his cheekbones stained with the unmistakable sheen that could be mistaken for the flush of an innocent youth held in the throes of a lover's impassioned embrace. Is it any wonder that this corrupt lord found him irresistible?_

_Having to hold back his baser nature for some weeks, the thought of finally slaking off his thirst was making him giddy. Even he couldn't hide completely the unholy gleam that burned behind his jeweled eyes, though he was still cautious enough never to look at people directly, instead, he gazed at them from beneath the fall of his thick ebony lashes, making his gaze even more alluring. He could smell the animalistic excitement in the faint sweat that tainted his prey and he licked his lips in anticipation. He could feel his fangs growing, puncturing the softer flesh inside his mouth as his tongue swiped at them in unconscious excitement...already the thrill of taking in the warmth of living essence is drugging his mind with the images of unbridled pleasure._

_And yet, throughout this sensory overload, he has kept enough self possession to ensure that his exterior remained poised. With the exception of the rosy tint that painted his cheeks, and the veiled fire in his gaze there was no sign of the hunger that raged within him. His countenance remained aloof, divorced from the happenings around him—it was as if he was somewhere else and not there in the boundaries that marked the edge where the dregs of civilized society roam freely._

_The creature that led him suddenly turned at a corner and pinned him to a nearby wall startling him…warm, trembling hands loosened the ties of his hair, letting the cool silken locks slide over them like bronzed moonlight. Eager hands gripped his cravat, tearing the fragile cloth in the man's haste to have him bared to those fevered eyes, pulling at his coat and ripping his linen shirt until one snowy shoulder was exposed to the chill of the night air._

_Warm eager lips tried to catch his but he evaded smoothly, placing his own against the warmth of his captors neck, nuzzling and biting until he heard the telltale moan. He quickly parted his lips, baring his fangs and brought it down swiftly against the exposed flesh, ripping the yielding skin and allowed the hot gush of arterial blood to flood his mouth and quench his never-ending thirst. His eyes were half closed, glazed over by the drugging sensation of drinking in the life-essence of another…he realized belatedly that he was purring…drunk on the near-forgotten pleasure of partaking in this forbidden hunt._

_A breath caught in someone's throat…a muffled gasp…a brief struggle and the blushing youth is now held in the cage of a pair of strong arms, one of his frail hands clasped delicately around the side of the hunched figures neck, seemingly soothing the creatures heaving breath as his lips fastened on the other side of the man's neck, his face concealed to all that passes by as he gently nuzzled against the warmth he found there._

_People passed by, glancing at this scene quickly before turning away just as fast. The sight wasn't all that unfamiliar…a man settling his business with any of the many nighthawks that_ _plied their trade in the shadows of London. Perhaps this one was simply in too much of a rush to even observe the propriety of getting a room and simply took what he paid for in the covered anonymity of an alley._

_And yet, if only the human traffic that ebbed and pulsed around that darkened corner paused for a minute more they would've noticed that the embracing lovers were both not the traditional sort. The smaller of the two, though undeniably beautiful, was not female. And though this was not an unheard of case, there was something quite odd about their pose._

_The younger of the two seemed to be pinned by the huge hulking form of the other. A closer look would've revealed that instead of an impassioned hold of a not-so innocent lover, it was a hand with bloodstained talons that was clasped around the man's neck. The boy that nuzzled against the older figure's neck had its mouth open, blood staining the corners of his thin lips as he continued his rabid suckling._

_Many minutes passed and then there was blessed silence, the sight of the entwined lovers forgotten in light of more important sights and matters. Then the night was once more disturbed by the staccato sounds of well-shod feet hitting the cobblestone paths. An elegantly arrayed young man with pale, gleaming hair tied back by a black velvet ribbon and elegant, entirely black evening clothes strolled out from the shadows seemingly born from it._

_The young gentleman's face was concealed under the brim of a top hat, showing only a faint smile on his handsome face and an unholy glow in his gem like eyes. He whistled a happy tune as he walked to nearby mansion. There was nothing to indicate, at first glance, to reveal that this was the same youth that mere moments ago was locked in a less than innocent embrace. However a more discerning eye might see the unmistakable mark left by his recent episode—the unmistakable crimson hue that taints his usually pale lips. With a sensuous lick, he cleaned away the final evidence of his recent repast before he entered the brilliantly lit ballroom._

_The night was young...and the hunt was only beginning…time for the next prey to be hunted down…_

_

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_

**BOOK ONE**

**Shadowdreamers**

_My name is Edward…I am known by many names and by even more numerous and varied monikers…I am a vampire…and this is the tale of my many lives…_

_Yes, you read it right…_

_Many lives…_

_Here is where it started it all...or at least where I wish for you to start...  
_

_

* * *

**Past, Romania in the year 1400…**_

_**Blood…**_

From the moment I first drew breath and witnessed the world that was all I ever knew…Its presence…the reality of it was the only truth that pervaded my world…I was born of it…and for it…and for the longest time I was content for my reason for being…

**Black and red**…silvery hues in the light of the waning moon…they were the first colors I have memory of…snatches of images from a world painted in garish, glaring hues that seemed to characterized my entire existence…

**Give me…Mine…Death…** these were the first words to ever come out of my lips…they are still the only words whose meaning has never been proven false…everything else I have learned…every utterance spoken by my sinful lips and mind has either been cleverly spoken lie or tools for manipulation…I have learned early on to excel at both…

**Betrayal and killing…**hunting prey was the game I excelled in… manipulating those around me was an exercise for my mental faculties, one I took obscene pleasure in concocting, if only to extract the most morbid and tragic of results...everyone else exists simply as pieces—pawns on my varied and extensive game board…and when the need for physical stimulation comes into play my body has the hunt that every creature given the Dark Gift participates in…it is both excruciatingly fun humiliating fledglings and satisfying for my appetites…

_**I am a killer born**_…it is my one task…one purpose in life…I do not fall prey to the moral dilemma that burdened a few of our kind…so many of them feel the faintest traces of shame whenever they face the need to hunt, though a fair few revel in the freedom of being outside the rules and confining strictures that are part and parcel of what they call humanity…I find this feature amongst fledglings a distasteful weakness that comes from being a mortal once…I had never known a time when I was one…and therefore I feel no regret when I take a life…and fear no retribution for how I feast on the mortals that flittered by my side…drawn to the unearthly mask that fate gave me…

I don't see the existence of our kind as a curse nor did I perform the hunt like some sport… competing with others like me for the blood of mortals like lowly wolves after cattle…I hunted simply to feed and hone skills that has helped me survive the passing years and prowled the realms of mortals because doing so pleased me…

The only thing that I actively avoided was confronting innocence. I loathed them like the light of the sun…nothing could rouse my fury more than the presence of an innocent mortal in the arms of my kindred…played like some hapless toy…strung along like a time-bound marionette…

Let me make it clear that it is not because I pitied the weak creatures or because I felt some hypocritical sense of justice…it was simply that their existence incensed me…their blind notion that they are more worthy…more deserving simply because they were untainted by the spell of the night…because they can escape the curse of being born in the Savage Garden. Their very blindness ignites my enmity.

It infuriates me to be accosted by innocents. For them, a quick death was not an act of mercy I extend but rather an act of revulsion…an unpleasant chore dealt with in the most expedient manner. Death for an innocent was done as quickly as possible—not because I was compassionate…it was because above all else, I am an efficient weapon… the best there ever will be…

I have had no other longings or wants save for the life essence that fulfills me...no desire unknown nor any hunger unsatisfied...I fear no one and hailed no one and nothing as my master. I was a law onto myself and recognized no power save my own.

I am Prince of the Coven and prized Heir of the Immortals...

Beloved by nobles and feared amongst the lowly fledglings that quivered and stuttered to do my bidding. I had the entire Immortal world in my grasp. I had everything my heart desired...there was nothing they could've or would've denied me. I was their everything. The moon and their evening star. I had every I everything any immortal could have wanted and more. At least that was I thought…

There was no challenge left unconquered, no satisfaction unrequited in my immortal existence and yet through it all I have suddenly grown bored...life offered no thrills anymore. I had no responsibility and no duty but to be the rightful Heir and that is something even a fool could manage with one eye closed. I wanted more from my Immortal Life. I needed more from the nights than it has yielded to me thus far. And so I sought the very thing that would destroy me. I sought to fulfill the impossible.

The day they told me to seek out and fulfill a single, insignificant task was the day I began to change. It should have been insignificant chore if I hadn't been so affected by what I did and saw back then. But I was. That was the first time I tasted defeat. The first time I tasted pain. It was a lesson I learned all too well. After that nothing again was ever the same. I am Prince of the Coven...Heir to the Immortals. And I wanted no part of them. Not after that one incident that changed everything for me.

Many arguments broke out after my change of heart. Many moons they waged arguments and threats of war but I had no time for them. I had only time for my own needs...my own thoughts...my own darkness finally consuming me.

In the end I chose banishment over ruling...despite the many pleas and threats of the Council. None of it held sway over my decision. And though in the Coven's eyes I was theirs to cajole and tempt into ruling, I do wish they had listened to me. But they did not. And so now they wait, hoping still that I would change my mind and see how important I was to the Coven.

Pity that they couldnt see that they weren't that important in mine.


	2. Book One: Aftermath of the Hunt

Authors Note: Standard disclaimer applies. Revisions still continuing. Slow process but oddly satisfying.

* * *

**Aftermath of the Hunt**

**Present, London, 1837 **

**EDWARD POV  
**

_This is my reality now…my world…the world where I chose to exist after I turned my back on my right to rule over the Coven that gave birth to my being. I chose to hunt alone, instead of having the usual retinue of servants that should've done the hunting and scouting for me. I gave up all but the most meager trappings of my former position. For some reason unfathomable to no one but myself, the Coven refused to let me continue my existence in a manner befitting my state of mind. They argued loudly that prince or not, I am not allowed to live in a hovel. I chose to ignore their decree. If they wish to provide me a domicile—be it hovel or palace—I doubt if it would've made any difference to me.I was not seeking a way of life. I was barely existing as it was.  
_

_Nearly five centuries has passed since then. The Council still waits for my decision, whether this would be the night I would finally take back the reins of rule or stay in my self-imposed exile. Every fortnight they sent an emissary to my door and every next day they receive my reply in a small ornate snuff box. The Council once stooped to ambushing me in the midst of a hunt to reprimand me for reducing messengers into ashes. They never repeated that same mistake._

_And yet the emissaries still arrive promptly at my door, patiently waiting for the answer they hope would be forthcoming. After the first few hundred emissaries, I have stopped counting. I also stopped immolating them. I simply ignored them and in time, they too, went away. Now they sent me mortal emissaries, hoping that I would be tempted by the feast they are offering. That's when I started hunting from the noble houses of the aristocracy. Mortals still operate under the rule of their mortal society. A lowly messenger can never hope to touch me while I lie in the very bosom of the privileged._

_I know that my actions are temporary measures at best. I know this well enough. Just as I know that the Council would soon formulate yet another method to elicit a response from my own lips. But it was all for naught. I still have no answer for them. I don't have any answers for them. I have none for them. After all, I have none even for myself._

* * *

The servant opened the door before he even had the need for it. This service was one of the many things he has taken for granted since the day the Council of Elders forced their Heir to stay in this mansion. The servant arrived here, delivered along with all the other necessities--accouterments of a life away from home—furniture, clothes, carriages and clothing, gold and jewels from the four corners of the world--illusory trappings of wealth that they deemed only suitable. Material wealth accorded a man in his station in life. The servant that provided for him day and night served just as one more furnishing in his hall…

The mansion was no hollow box that concealed its true purpose like so many other Immortals domain. The mansion was not a prop, a front for what lies beneath its floor. The rooms above were completely furnished, albeit to a lesser degree of opulence than the suite rooms at the catacombs. Out of habit, he began shedding his evening clothes the moment his well-shod feet hit the polished marble floors of his well appointed prison.

As expected, the servant was there, scrambling to pick up every stray item that he carelessly tossed over his shoulder, uncaring if the child diligently following him could actually see where it would land as the house was never fully lit. With only the moonlight pouring out of huge vaulted windows and arches aiding his descent, he spared no sympathy for the difficulty of the chore. He had none to spare.

In the cavernous halls of the old catacombs, he found the ingenious water work system that the engineers he had hired had created. It supplied the catacombs with water enough to fill a small pool where he would take his bath before resting until he rose the next night.

Stripping off the last garments from his body, leaving behind only a delicate chain where a tiny glittering pendant winked in the pale light, he took an assessing look at the crystal clear pool as it reflected his flawless, sinewy length. The eons have barely left any trace on his ageless body…it was the same as it was the first time the Elders held the miracle of his creation. The black pool was an excellent foil against his brilliant, soft illumination…mirroring skin whiter than the finest alabaster.

He stood still and wondered anew at the bitter irony that even he would be apt to make the mistake that he was a statue placed in front of a reflective pool. There was no mark on him…nothing to note that he has been alive for far longer than most civilizations in the world. His burnished ruby-gold eyes traveled over his smooth, unblemished shell, noting the sheer perfection of his physical form with no outward sign of pleasure or pride. The body was simply another tool in his vast arsenal of weapons. Truth be told, it was his weakest weapon, though, ultimately the most alluring to the mortals that flocked to his side..drawn as if called by some siren song.

His gaze fell on his hands and he raised them to the light to better see the glass-like talons that were stained with his last kill's blood. They marred the shining surface, making it difficult to explain to curious mortals their cause if they should be impertinent enough to ask but none had dared. He has learned early on that there still resides in mortals an instinct against danger. They stayed away from him whenever he displayed the slightest hint of aloofness.

But that was not the reason he chose to retreat to his lair, instead of giving in to the call of the night. If he was forced to explain, he could say it was dismay and distaste that sent him back. He found the hunt boring, tedious…a chore more than the sport he had thought it would be. It didn't distract him, it made him even more tense, restless like a caged beast that has grown bored and filled with dangerous ennui. Worse still, the prey disgusted him. He could still recall the rotting, foul stench of the docks…the grimy edge of the civilized world where he was situated…but it wasn't that particular smell that caused his repugnance. It was the taint of his prey's personality. The man was born to privilege but housed a soul more depraved than the lowest vermin that infested the slums.

His eyes were half-concealed by his lashes but even that couldn't hide the burning hatred he felt for the human waste that he had recently disposed of. As he drunk his victim's life essence, his mind was flooded by the images of his past victims…the lives he took…the innocent blood he spilled in the name of lust…the scars he left on so many young hearts…the screams that fed his carnal wants even as he slaked it in the pool of tainted innocence.

The torturous nightmares made his hands clench and he recalled how the iniquitous scoundrel caressed his tresses, smelling the fragrant mass like some rabid animal. He turned away in revulsion, hands trembling as he undid the velvet knot that held it back. With the exclusion of his lips and his hair, there were little about himself that he found worth keeping from the clutches of the rabble he associates with. The touch of his recent kill on the unusual mane he felt like his privacy was breached. The bath was more than just for the stench of the docks clinging to his very pores…it was for the unusual bronze colored mass that brushed against his skin. It was his only memento of his past…somehow; he always kept it from being drenched by the tainted blood he so freely indulges in.

When he saw the strands near his hand stained at the tips with blood he gave out a feral snarl. In a fit of rage he wrapped his hands around the first thing that brushed by him and turning, slammed it straight into the nearby wall. A sickening thud echoed in the empty room, the sound of breaking bones loud in the eerie silence. For a full minute, he was unaware of the desperate but silent struggle that his prey gave until it too settled down. Blinking, he realized that what he was clutching in his hand was a living being, held some four feet from the ground, pinned to the unyielding wall like some parody of an animal mounted there. As if waking from a trance, he backed away slowly, opening his hand until the poor creature dropped into an exhausted, unconscious heap on the floor…blood dripping from the deep gouges he has given his unfortunate servant.

Without a word, he turned away and approached the pool once more. His thin lips held firm once again, barely giving any emotion away though his eyes were even worse. The look of loathing they mirrored after the hunt froze into an icy and unforgiving stare as if he has already dismissed the event from his mind. Slowly, he slid into the perfumed waters and closed his eyes; unconcerned and uncaring of the bleeding, bruised living doll he had so haphazardly tossed like an offending, broken toy as his mind spun around the same litany of thoughts that haunted his every waking moment.

_He was so tired…so tired…but he will not break his oath…he will hunt and kill until there is no need riding him any longer…but he will not allow innocent blood to taint his lips…never again will he partake of the poison that innocence bears …he was born of the darkness…he will only partake from its endless rivers…soon…he will answer its Siren's call again…once more…soon…the madness would stop and he could rest…just a little while more…_

_

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_

_**Isabella POV**  
_

I am a servant in the household of an undying being that feasted on mortals. You might think that this would be reason enough for me to leave but I suppose that's why I stay. I don't follow reason. I have been a servant in my master's household for many years, and though I was certainly not the first servant he has had, I am certainly one of the few that survived more than a fortnight. Perhaps it was because I learned early on to simply look and observe and serve. It has certainly done me good.

Tonight, my lord was disturbed…

That much I recognized as I opened the door for him, locking it behind him automatically. I followed him, silent as a shadow, on the lookout to see where his clothes would fall as he went through his habit of tossing them away as soon as they were stripped from his body…his movements were jerky, so unlike his normal, fluid grace. He cast the clothes off as if the costly material were of little or no importance. I suppose that for someone as wealthy as he, clothes were not a concern.

His footsteps on the marble tiles made no sound as he descended to the catacombs where his rooms where kept. I saw my master pull down the lever that controlled the machinery for the water works and I realized that he meant to take a bath. Quick as I can, I folded his clothes and prepared the pool, pouring a generous amount of the perfumed oils that he preferred on such occasions. For reasons known only to him he refuses to wear the same clothes he wore when he comes from a hunt and always bathed after each successful hunt…as if he was washing away the traces of the blood he spilled. This, by itself, was an anomaly for those who are like my master…few of them go through this mortal ritual…keeping themselves clean simply out of habit…some prefer the taint of their kill to perfume their air.

But not my master. He would bathe twice in a single day...once before he hunts and once more after he comes back. There were days when he would bathe more than twice, mostly if things were not to his liking. There were many times I think he is drawn to the water because he feels free and clean within it. Tonight, however, my master was more than distraught…it was as if he was infuriated by some thought or idea…I paid little mind to his distress thinking that it would soon be washed away along with the icy cold waters of his bath, just like all the other instances before.

But tonight, for the first time after nearly a century of service, I was wrong.

The attack took me by surprise and that is the reason why I even tried to struggle. Self-preservation kicked in, even before I actually realized the gravity of my situation. Gazing at his eyes, I recognized the crazed light and the emptiness in them and ceased my fruitless thrashing. When his eyes took on that blood-red glow of bloodied gold there was no reason or logic behind his gaze—there was only abyss behind them. Grimly I bit my lips as I felt the talons puncture the skin of my neck, the warm trickle of blood seeping out of my wounds and through it all remained still.

The pain was already clouding my mind and the lack of air in lungs would soon numb me from the ache. I prayed that it would come soon. As my eyes finally gave in to the lure of unconsciousness I saw awareness of his deed in his deep eerie golden red eyes before the wall that divided us—Master and slave—finally came crashing down.


	3. Servant of the Night

**Servant of the Night**

**Isabella POV  
**

_I have served under my master's tumultuous rule from the moment I opened my eyes and saw those bloodied golden eyes…eyes that screamed torment from behind their forbidding silence. Since then I have come to know a few things._

_**First, I possess no memory of my past**…_

_The mansion and the suite of rooms in the catacombs were all that I have ever known of the outside world since I woke up bundled on the floor and staring at the enraged face of my master. I have never known any semblance of life other the one I currently have. Moreover I feel no need to pursue what I was before I came to be in the service of the man I call lord…I have never questioned the fact that I have no living memory of having known any other home, family or even any other purpose than the one thrust upon me by my master. I never even wondered at the fact that I possess no name and he has never seen it fit to bestow one on me. If I had another name before I was dumped at my master's feet I have no recollection of it…nor have I demanded that he give me one…its one of the many things that are never discussed in my master's domain…I am his…his servant…his slave…it is enough for the both of us…_

_**Second, I am a thing that cannot die...**_

_I am an Immortal. At least, that's what I suppose I could call myself since I never grew older beyond whatever mortal age I am now… I never desired to know the proper term…I simply felt that there was no need for the appropriate term… I existed just as I always have…a title would have made little difference in my existence…the truth was that I was thankful for the fact that I couldn't die. My master is prone to violence and rages…being mortal would've been just a nuisance and an inconvenience for both he and I…him because it would necessitate finding a new servant and I because by then I would've have died the same day I arrived at his door. The fact that I wasn't breakable and more hardy than a mortal servant proved to be the reason why I managed to stay so long in his service. He told me once that he used to have a fledgling servant but hunting and serving a master was not something the fledgling did really well. My master grew tired of his excuses and immolated him after the last time the servant was late in attending to my master's needs. Of all the immortals that came and went only two stayed. The other was a fellow vampire of his. I was the other.  
_

_**I am an Immortal in the service of another Immortal**…_

_Or perhaps service is the wrong term…I am his slave…his property. Perhaps any other person would cringe under the term but never me…the distinction makes no merit…I call him master and he refers to me as a servant… I care for my Master's demands…and he, in turn, keeps me sheltered from the world that I can never understand…Rarely do I venture beyond the walls of his inner mansion…often keeping to the shadows until the crack of dawn…that is when my day of service begins. My duties are halted when he steps out of the gates at dusk and I attend to other matters until his return…and then the cycle begins again. I perform whatever task he asks of me. Mostly it is simply that I stand guard over his rituals and to keep the mansion running as smoothly as he so desires. That is what I have been trained to do since I was delegated by whatever power—be it his or the Council's as his property. I have never asked why it was so…for me, it was enough that I had a purpose…and that someone recognizes that I am his…_

_I have gone through the ages with my lord…I have watched the centuries pass by us without fear and with little regret…but in all the time I have been with my lord, there is one other fact that I have not been able to do. I have never spoken a single word…not to him…nor to anyone else…for any reason._

_For nearly a century I have not made a single solitary sound that was heard by another living soul._

_

* * *

_She opened her eyes and felt the dampness cooling her skin…focusing she noted that beneath her was a darkening pool of blood…_**mine…**_Once more, she shook off the last vestiges of disorientation that always followed an attack. As if being mauled nearly to death was a matter that occurred regularly, she simply pushed herself off the floor…leaning heavily on trembling arms and numbed hands…she managed to finally get to her feet, cursing under her breath as she swayed unsteadily beneath rubbery legs…and after single in-drawn breath proceeded with her duties as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

She realized belatedly that it has been barely a minute since she lost consciousness…but that was not something new…though it was not often that she ends up as her masters medium for releasing his pent up rage, she has learned to take events in her stride…there was really nothing that surprises her anymore…as the blood that soaked her skin dried up, she simply flicked off the crusted flake of blood like as if this was a common thing…

Moving quickly, she picked up the sponge from the gilt-edged basin, glad that it was just where she had left it, a few minutes before her master's attack. The wounds on her neck haven't healed yet…but it will…sooner or later…they always do. So often has the attacks occurred over the years that, as if she was prepared in advance, she uncoiled a foot-long strip of cotton—the remains of an old cravat that hung from the tattered shirt she used to wear—and tied it around her neck. The impromptu bandage was kept not for some belated sense of self-preservation but simply to keep the blood from dripping into his bath water. She feared tainting his bath water more than she would ever care for her own physical state. This time, she would tread ever more cautiously. The attack occurred because she got careless and she presumed that he would recognize her after all these years. She would not make the same mistake again.

If there was any other thing that kept her safe all this years, more than her silence or her diffident ways, it was her ability to judge when to venture close to the beasts grasp. Tonight her master was behaving like an enraged wounded bull. It would be the height of foolishness to assume he would not attack again. This time, she needs to bring her brain along with her quick hands. Even immortal as she was, she seriously doubts that she could stay alive if he decides to take a second swipe at her neck.

* * *

Gingerly I approached the marble-tiled roman bath and touched one of the tiny bells that decorated the edge of the elaborate pool. Since I have never spoken even once my Master and I have found ways to deal with this minor problem. The bells would do the speaking for me. One chime means please. Two means yes. There is no need for a negative response. We both know that I would never give it.

From the corner of his eyes, I saw his acquiescence. He sat up from his slackened pose and held out one arm. I dipped the sponge into the perfumed oils once more and started scrubbing his arm, beginning with his shoulders and down to his forearms and wrists. For reasons known only to him, I was forbidden from ever grazing his hands until he expressly orders me to touch them. I worked slowly, efficiently…in absolute silence, like always.

His skin was colder than the statues of gold and ivory that decorated the opulent hall two floors above our heads but that was something I have learned to ignore…submerged as he was in a pool of near boiling hot water, the heat lingers long enough for me not to gasp aloud at the touch of his icy limbs. I have long developed the mindset that enabled me to perform certain tasks with aplomb. I kept in mind that polishing the priceless heirlooms felt no different from touching his naked flesh…Master just moved more than the statues did…

Perhaps it is this iciness of his entire being that drew me…I dare say its one of the reasons I stay by his side regardless of the sheer amount of harm he inflicted on me. He is indifferent and he is capable of violence but he is never deliberately cruel. He is like a drawn blade—he harms when he is wielded or when he is handled carelessly. I haven't felt the need to contemplate this quite as deeply as such act merited…perhaps if ever I develop the inclination to wonder why I stay beside a monster…perhaps then I would have some good answers…for now, I am simply doing my job.

Finishing his upper limbs and certain that his lower once had been already attended to, I reached beside me, drawing up the jug that held the water collected for rinsing. With a hand that barely trembled I poured the water over his supine form, careful to keep the flow from reaching his beautiful tresses. That would be attended to later.

After a minute Master rose from the waters embrace, the air immediately becoming scented as his body released some of the oils that were used for his bath. Languidly, he stalked towards marble bench that served the purpose of being his bed as his hair was tended. My master was vain…there was no going around that truth. Vanity held no better worshipper than him…and for good reasons.

His form was angelic…there was no other word to use but that…even amongst the most beautiful of their kind my Master stood out like a beacon in the looming darkness…a nighttime star…. glowing like the fires of a thousand sun-struck gems…

His hair was a treasured feature…like raw, unwoven silk…the shimmering strands gleamed even in the gloom of this dungeon…like bronze silk combed into the softest most yielding strands. Crimson gold that shimmered even within the palest light or deepest gloom. As such Master permitted no one to touch his glorious gift…with the sole exemption of his silent servant…no hands save his and mine was ever laid on the shining mass.

As he stretched out those long, sinewy limbs unto the velvet lined bench, he let his hair trail down the side where spring water warmed to perfection would be poured through the thick locks. While one of my hands comb the gleaming mane, I poured jasmine oils onto his scalp, massaging the fragrant concoction all over his hair…ensuring that each strand was coated by the precious liquid. I rinsed the oils to remove every speck of dust and the faint tinge of smoke gathered from his night time forays before I rubbed my hands with camellia shampoo, forming thick foam, I lathered the oiled mass to cleanse it…careful not to pull a single strand out of its roots…my movements measured and methodical…having done the same thing for centuries…

As I dried the sweet smelling tresses, I found myself transfixed by the feel of the long locks…they felt familiar and yet unfamiliar and for the space of a breath the fog inside my mind cleared to tell me that his hair hasn't been cut for a very long time. The thought and the certainty vanished with my next breath.

Shaking off the strange melancholy that gripped me, I wrapped the damp mass in the velvet towels meant for the task, patting the dripping ends dry as I waited for my master to rise from his impromptu bed so that I could begin clearing up the bath. I held an ebony brushed-silk robe aloft, waiting for him to wrap it around his nubile form. I waited patiently, though mildly wondering why he kept so still. Bowing and assuming that he has something on his mind, I placed the robe in a convenient resting frame and turned to start the task of clearing the remains of his bath. I was just about to empty the roman-tub when he spoke.

"Why did you not run when I attacked you? Why do you stay when I could have easily ended your life…?"

The words were uttered in a calm, neutral tone. It was neither inquisitive nor even slightly curious. It was as if he simply stated a fact. But the demand for a response was there all the same.

Looking up I saw him gazing at me quietly. Though I have lived with him for so long, I could still count in one hand the number of times he actually looked at his lowly servant. I assumed that he wasn't really looking at me but through me and then he spoke… for the first time since I came to be in his service, he directed words to me that were neither an order nor a reprimand. As such I had no knowledge on how to respond to the question he posed.

"Why won't you speak…I know that you can…"


	4. Musings of Silent Soul

Authors Note: There is a sense of satisfaction in revisiting a story. It feels like an old friend that loves to reminisce with you. I hope that people would find enjoyment in this tale.

* * *

**Musings of Silent Soul**

**_ISABELLA POV_**

"_**Why did you not run when I attacked you?" **_

How could I have run at that moment? I didn't even realize he was in such a foul mood until I felt that vise-like grip choking the breath out of me. The attack was unprovoked and self-preservation was the only reason—instinctive and uncontrollable—that I even fought against his hold. I have been with him long enough to know that like his joys, his fits of temper also passes and wanes like moonlight. The only constant in his world has been the haunted look in his god-cursed eyes. It was not the first time I was at the receiving end of his violence, but this was certainly one of the few rare ones when there has been no outside force near enough to cause him to lose his leash on his formidable temper.

"…_**Why do you stay when I could have easily ended your life…?"**_

His words, far more than his recent actions, confused me. I have tasted the darkness inside him, the poison that he freely unleashes whenever he steps out of the mansion. I have learned to endure in silence his cutting words, his scathing disdain for all creatures—mortals and Immortals alike—and the iciness of his indifference but never, ever has he spoken to me thusly. And so therefore I had no notion of how to react to his inquiry.

**Why do I stay...?**

What answer could I give the man that owns my very existence...? Vaguely, I felt my eyes sweep across the gloom of the catacombs...hoping for some spark of inspiration, unconsciously praying that an intervention arrives. I have never wanted his scrutiny. A servant only wishes to be of satisfactory service…to be of some measurable usefulness. What manner of a servant questions the power that allows him to live, to be of some use to those around him? Desperately I tried to formulate some answer that would satisfy him, knowing that even if I had been successful, there would have been no way to communicate the thought inside me.

**Why does a servant stay? Isn't it to serve?**

I continued to seek a fruitless reason that would not provoke him again but alas there was just the void. When his questions uttered by his sinful his voice faded into silence and the quiet lengthened to meet only the sound of the water and the soft hiss of the winds that wafted its way underneath the manor I finally dared to raise my eyes to his...

**Cold...cool...unfeeling...untouchable…empty...endless...**

**Ageless as sin...beautiful beyond imagining...**

_**Dangerous...**_**Deadly...**

My eternally alluring master stands before me, heart-wrenchingly beautiful in his stillness, waiting, patient as the stars for his servant to come up with a suitable reply that would satisfy the confusion that wells in his usually stoic eyes. I wish I could answer him with some succinct and acceptable…something that would convey the myriad of thoughts that filled my mind…but along with the silence that was the reality of my world…my very existence…the truth was that I had no answer to give him… I wanted to assure him, provide succor, though the need was foolish, it existed just the same.

**But what can I tell him? **

There is no answer to be had. None that would feel right, at least, not for him or for me and I refuse to pacify him with a lie. He lives with so many already and I don't know if I had any in me. What should I tell him? That I stay because that is what I was told to do? That I have known of nothing else but being his servant and that I had no courage to find out if there was more to be had outside the mansions walls? That while there is nothing inside him but anger, violence and bloodshed there was even less inside me? And so in the end, I remained silent...waiting…knowing that he would ask if he still wishes for a response...

He was very much like a cat in that respect...curious and aloof... I waited and held my breath...praying that his next words wouldn't confuse me more than it already had. I staredinto unflinching eyes the color of gold and rubies…bloodied golden pools and felt an echo of the same resonance that flooded my senses the very first time I laid eyes on my master_…_**Why do you stay…? **He asks me.

I picked up the thick linen towels that I prepared beforehand and proceeded to pat dry every inch of his exposed flesh, mindful as always of every part of him…careful as I would have been with the priceless ivory sculptures my master collected whenever he traveled across the seas. And as I mopped every drop of perfumed water from his body I wondered anew at his query over my ability to remain steadfast even when I was well aware that my life hung by a thread…and then I wondered as well if he realized that he was far more deadly when his anger was turned inwards rather than towards his lowly servant…

I moved to rub his pale hand, dipping my fingertips into the many lotions needed to keep his hands supple and sweet-smelling as he was wont…smoothing it over his hands that were cradled lovingly in my own…and I could not help but think at the ironic truth that such frail hands could and did deliver death with very little effort.

As I watched the Roman bath drain itself of the sodden waters used to cleanse my master I recalled one of the many memories I have kept about our ever-changing, complex relationship.

_FLASHBACK…_

_My Master was a living contradiction. His looks, his lifestyle, what he is, what he says, what he does is all part and parcel of an ever growing puzzle that doesn't seem to want to be solved. __There were a handful of occasions over the past centuries when the beast that lurked beneath my master's angelic form would struggle to break free…days when my master ceases to don the mask and rank of the Chosen One…when he casts aside the title of heir and lord of the Coven and sinks to the monstrous levels of a mindless killing machine ready to take on anything and everything the world had to offer… _

_It often came upon us like the proverbial lightning strike. Out of no where he would start to destroy everything that he came in contact with during those days of violence…whether living or not…it hardly mattered to him…_

_Those were dark days…though he and I live in the shadow realms of those that no longer live…we are still existing…and yet during the days when he falls prey to the lust of carnage he is no longer an agent of death…no longer an exquisite Angel of Darkness…no…then he becomes nothing more than an animal seeking blood like the very air we needed to breathe…a primal creature driven by hunger and rage whose sole purpose was to deliver death in the most gruesome and expedient manner…and those were the days when I truly learned fear…_

_Often I would be jolted awake from my always troubled slumber with the cacophony of breaking china and shattering glass…I would rush from the dark corner where I spent my days and I would find him there…standing eerily still, covered in the shimmering rain of crystal shards and strips of priceless tapestries reduced to torn rags…unheeding of the treasures he was rapidly reducing to worthless rubble…in his hand would be his current weapon of choice—often a saber or even an old battle axe, held casually as if he was simply posing for a painting—still for the mere second it took for him to catch his breath before another bout of destruction and mayhem…_

_But what struck me most of all was that all throughout this seemingly mindless rampage he would remain utterly silent…his face a cold, unfeeling mask resembling a marble effigy more than that of a human face, distorted into a parody of a grimace with his fangs bared and gleaming with blood and his eyes—opened wide, wild and burning with an intense fire that could not be quenched…driven by some unknown rage that turned his normally languid hands into claws clenched and flexing…each glass-tipped digit stained and dripping with the blood of whatever it was that was unfortunate enough to cross his warpath…_

_The rage…just as it begins without warning ends just as abruptly…At times the rampage would last barely an hour…coming like a burst of quick fire and die just as suddenly…when this occurs the damage then becomes minimal, almost unnoticeable as the palatial arrangements made it impossible to destroy the sheer bulk of furnishings housed in a single room of the Manor._

_However there were times when the blood lust would suddenly grab hold of his senses like a fever and he would enter the house, fresh from the hunt, the blood of his recent kill still staining his clothes…he would pick up one of the many weaponry displayed along the foyer and then pandemonium would commence and it would last for many moons…he would prowl through the halls of the Manor systematically destroying every piece of china, crystal and furniture with methodical ease that bordered on the obsessed…nothing survived these frenzied runs…especially the figures and motifs that bore the images and forms of children…from the delicate Delft figurines to the cherubim that formed the centerpiece of the inner fountains._

_Inevitably, the only thing that would remain unscathed would be the inner chambers in the catacombs…his true domicile. Within the darkness his stone sarcophagi would remain in its pristine condition. That, a piano that glistened even in the consuming darkness and an old oil portrait of a young woman with hair dark as rain drenched earth and eyes like milk chocolate._

_After the fervor has deserted him, he would simply collapse…or stand utterly still with the bewildered look in his eyes like that of a lost child...his gaze unfocused…murmuring incoherently through cracked lips bleeding at places where he bit himself. And that is when I would approach him, tentatively offering my hands to lead him like a lost waif to the catacombs, for once the dominant one in our odd partnership, ignoring the destruction that we would pass by…there I would bathe his wounds, wrap his bleeding hands as carefully as I could manage and brush his hair until the glazed look fade from his eyes. I would dress him in a simple robe of black silk and nothing more…as if being dressed somehow suffocated him._

_He would sit, perched on the lid of his stone coffin, staring at the painting with dark, hooded gaze for hours on ends…never really saying anything…nothing to disturb the silence of the room…that night however…he broke the silence for the very first time…his voice soft and lilting like a child sharing some mystery…_

"_**Why aren't you afraid of me…? Everyone else fears me**__…" His voice was soft...melodic…seduction at its finest…compelling even as he sends a shiver through me__**…"I can tell…they all smile and say pretty things…but they never mean it. They're afraid…some of them hate me. I know it because their hearts tell me. I can hear them you know…I know that they won't believe me. They say no one who has the dark gift hears another Immortal's thought without having created a fledgling and I have never done that.**_

_**No one believes that I still remember…but there are times when I do… when I would lie in the dark and hear voices flooding inside my head… I remember everything. There were dark days…days that weren't days at all…when I can't see anything but black for miles around…and know of nothing else but pain and anger and everything dark, despairing and damaged inside me.**_

_He traced a delicate fingertip along the intricate, delicate chain that he constantly wore around his neck. He would lift it up and allow the pendant to shimmer in the faint candlelight like a fallen star._

"_**Do you know where this came from…? Do you know who gave this to me…?"**_

_For that instance alone his voice, his entire manner was vulnerable, like a child afraid of being left alone. __I shook my head…but my eyes were drawn towards the glittering orb and the fragile chain obviously made with such loving detail…at the back of the mind I admitted was a void, a spark ignited into life before dying once more into oblivion. That night he spoke once more…eyes still with that faintly questioning air…but this time there was a trace of sadness in them that could not be explained…his eyes moving between the painting he had an artist—a fellow Immortal—create and the pendant swinging in his hand._

"_**I used to know who it was…but I can't remember anymore…I used to…but now…I don't know who and why I wear it anymore…but I knew then…I wish I could know again…"**_


	5. Instincts and Intruders

He wonders at the strange fascination that runs like a silvered thread through him at the moment. Though he is uncertain why he insists on a question that in all probability won't elicit any response aside form those conveyed by his servants hands and eyes, he feels the need to remain, for once, within the sphere of his loyal, if silent servant. For many years, he has steadily, if unconsciously, avoided being alone with the waif-like child, preferring the company of his less taciturn companion and erstwhile guard Emmett. Now he tries to remember why it was that he felt it necessary to keep his distance from a creature that offers no chance or possibility of danger for him.

FLASHBACK

Edward POV

I could still recall the first time my servant was given to me…or should I say to be more precise the day the Council delivered the battered, bruised poor excuse for a human they declared to be yet another one of my many properties.

"I didn't ask for any of these worthless things and now here you are again, dumping yet another piece of worthless trash at my feet."

"My apologies Highness, but I was tasked to bring this last piece of property—"

I stared at the obviously uneasy emissary before baring my teeth.

"Property?" I snarled. "No, you and your idiotic Council have no right to tell me what is and isn't mine to consider. Now take that baggage you brought with you. I will have nothing that doesn't please me. Leave before I consider your insignificant hide fodder for my rage."

I barely paid any attention to the pale, half-starved, ragged urchin by my feet. I continued to train my basilisk glare at the hapless messenger that spoke to me and told him in no uncertain terms that I refuse to turn my domain into a halfway house for lost waifs. The stoic emissary simply bowed, apologized and accepted my ravings and ranting. Then he left and the baggage he brought with him remained.

"You--! You fool! What are you doing? Take this thing with you!"

Foiled with my attempt to command a lowly footman to do my bidding I bared my fangs at the bedraggled bag of bones that seemed to have taken root on my immaculate floor. After a full two minutes I realized that the hapless scamp barely lifted its head from contemplating the patterns on the marble floor. Frustrated I lifted the imp by its collar and dragged it clear across the hall before hurling it unceremoniously into a far corner. Sensitive ears heard the unmistakable sound of bones fragmenting beneath the sheer impact of my throw but the waif never made a sound. Thinking the child was being deliberately willful to annoy me; I grabbed it by the neck and slammed it violently against the wall where it continued to huddle in silence.

Growling, fangs bared and red-gold eyes aflame, I grabbed the child's wild mane and was startled when my eyes were greeted by a pair of large, warm brown ones, thickly fringed and utterly, hauntingly familiar. Rendered momentarily speechless, I stared at the child…wishing that the imp would speak but it never did. I stared at those fathomless eyes and entertained a moment of doubt that what I held in my hands was actually human.

It was like holding on to a warm doll...one whose face and form tickled the back of my mind…reminding me of something forgotten long ago… The urchin barely twitched, held four feet from the ground, feet dangling uselessly, it gave no indication that it feared for its life…even if that life was hanging by the frailest thread of reason. Fathomless doe-like eyes stared unseeingly into mine, no emotion save serenity gathered in the unusually warm depths and barely any shadow marred their startling beauty.

I felt time slow down to a complete stop…the child kept me trapped as effectively as the talons I clamped around that fragile neck…Minutes ticked by slowly, like the drugged heartbeat of a person hovering at the edge of unconsciousness…I waited for the waif to speak but it only continued to stare straight ahead at me, uncaring or unaware that I had demanded to hear the voice hidden within the frail excuse that passed for a human throat.

"Speak you insolent child! Speak so that I may ask from which level of hell they unearthed you. I want you to return there as fast as your pathetic mortal body is able."

Her haunting gaze focused on my face, looking as if she was searching for something, tilting her head as if to listen more closely to the sound of my voice before looking straight into my eyes. For the first time in my eternal existence I was shown desolation and solitude reflected back by a pair of eyes even more haunted than my own. All those dark emotions, bared to my very sight, unvarnished and all the more poignant because she seemed unaware of it. The waif's lips never moved but the answer came anyway. They came from her unnaturally tranquil, eerily soulful eyes.

I cannot…

"Cannot or will not? Do not defy me child! I am your master!"

The child continued to stare at me with her eyes the color of soft, virgin earth…I felt the dull thud of her heart, slowing down with each beat due to lack of viable breathing air but it failed to even disturb the uncanny silence that seemed to emanate from the doll that I clutched in my grip….a grip strong enough to reduce human bones to dust. For a moment I wondered what I would do if she did speak when I noticed that the urchin was slowly raising a thin, stick like arm. A hand no bigger than a rose extended a single finger and pointed towards her throat before letting it fall back to her side.

Cannot…

Startled I opened my hand and allowed the child to slide free, watching bemusedly as it attempted to arrest her fall back into a puddle at my feet by clutching at the wall and nodding. For some reason that made me smile and this time those earth-toned eyes betrayed some passing emotion.

"Is that it…? You can not speak…the Council gave me a mute servant…"

A nod and a weary huff of air were all that the child allowed me in response to my statement. She pointed to her throat and waved her hand in negation.

"I suppose that's only expected after I sent the last fledglings tongue to them with the instruction that it be serve as an entrée. But we won't have that problem now would we?"

At that comment the child did something that chilled my blood and caused me to stay away after that brief moment of shared amusement. Mere moments after I held her very life in my hands and subjected her to my errant will whilst treating her like so much rubbish, she gave me a smile. And though over the passing decades she has proven herself more astute and accommodating to my whims and wants, performing her duties with the utmost conscientiousness, I have never forgotten the memory of that smile that forced me keep her an abstract figure in my mind.

END FLASHBACK

**

Now, after nearly a hundred years the memory resurfaces and causes him wonderment anew. The reason for his unease still eludes him and now he has something new to add to the mix. The urge to unburden the tormenting thoughts inside his head was in itself an oddity. He was well known for his secretive ways and even more paranoid state of mind.

Well I have certainly come along way from that…I have just spilled out my deepest fears to my slave. I should be thankful I spilled my secrets to the silent one. Had it been the other one, I would have at least some cause for concern.

Lost as he seemed to be in the ruminations of his past, he was still well aware of the presence that intruded upon the quiet communion he shared with the silent waif by his side. As the child hurriedly went through the final motions of his toilette, he kept his eyes hidden beneath the languid sweep of his lashes. Though he gave no outward indication, the child felt his tension rise and promptly tried to remove itself subtly from the premises leaving him strangely bereft.

As the perceptive child tried to vanish with its usual stealth, he started to turn away, intent on ignoring the unwanted intruder when his sensitive ears caught the unmistakable sound of a struggle ensuing behind him. Turning gracefully towards the source of the disturbance, his eyes flashed briefly as he saw his servant struggling valiantly against the snow-white arms of another immortal.

"Let her go. She belongs to this manor and you aren't. It is only right that she questions your presence."

A displacement wind rushed past the thick drapes was all that gave away the presence that now stood where there was once none. A shadow detached itself from the solid wall of obsidian night and ventured forth. It was a young woman with hair the color of honey and eyes fever bright in their ruby depths.

"You seem lost…this is not a hunting ground…" he murmured softly.

"I did not come here to hunt…" came the equally neutral reply. A pale hand lifted to unfasten an ornately embroidered coat to reveal smooth pale chest. Emblazoned on it was an elaborate tattoo…the symbol for the clan of mystics and arcane practices.

"I do not recall asking your clan for anything…and the Coven has learned the hard way to stay out of my way…you have no business invading my domain…leave…"

"Your highness, surely you can not be as cruel as to drive a guest away? Can I not come simply for the pleasure of your company my lord?"

"I tolerate much from the clans…but do not assume to be familiar with me. It is not your place."

"But surely--!"

The time the page drew breath to continue her passionate plea took long enough for the prince to plunge crystalline talons into the unblemished skin exposed by the gaping coat. A thin trail of blood dripped from the pricked skin. The newcomer stilled as if shot as the mellifluous voice brushed against her ear once more. This time however, the silken veil was lifted until all that remained behind was the sharp edge of steel.

"I tire of your useless chatter, Slave…" he hissed menacingly. "The next time you draw breath and it displeases me, your blood shall paint my floors and I shall send you back to the council in a tinder box. Now tell me why you are in my domain."

"The Council sent me to warn you…"

"The council is growing senile if they think that I need watching like some idiotic fledgling…"

"The Council does not doubt my lord's skill but there have been some rumors that have been spreading like wildfire amongst the coven…"

"And what, pray tell, is this old wives tale about? Is it about the missing crone or the one that breeds intrigue to fuel the self-indulgent egos of the ancients?"

"Neither my lord…they say that there is a rogue fledgling amongst the clan, an assassin that dwells within the ranks of the Coven. They say that this one poses danger for those who would instinctively trust one of our kind…'"

"This is the news they sent you bring me?" The young noble gave a derisive laugh. "They are growing more demented than usual…"

"My Lord--! The Elders feel that as such, you must return to the keep--!"

"Listen to me Messenger and listen well. If someone is killing fledgling too stupid to hone their instincts to mistrust anyone who kills to live then they deserved their fate. I harbor neither fear for assassins nor their miserable kind…neither will I return to the chains of the Elders. Tell them that…and leave my domain while my humor lasts."

He dropped his arm and started to walk away but the urgent voice of the messenger halted his exit.

"You must take heed, my lord…this one is no ordinary assassin…they say that this one bears the strength of a Fallen and as such can not be harmed as easily as all the others…this one is said to have hair dark as a raven's wing and eyes that blazed like fire…"

"The Elders are making a pathetic attempt at inciting fear…pay them no mind…their tales are fit only as bedtime stories for mortal children…"

"It is foolish to shun their concern, my lord…for this one hunts only those that belong to the night…this assassin drinks from the wellspring of the brethren…" the page sighed before continuing, "Many are of the opinion that this rouge killer is one of the nobles that tread our halls unimpeded by customs and laws. They say that only a nobleman could have done such act of destruction…" Stillness came over the young nobles' form and his head turned slightly towards the waiting page.

"I hope for your sake that your maker is someone worth fearing Slave. Better that he deliver his intrigues and speculations rather than assign them to you for if someone else heard the words you've just uttered, your master will have nothing more of you than a smear of ashes on the asphalt. Leave before I do something I would later need a bath for." And with that the prince vanished once more into the shadows leaving the young page flustered and confused.

**

A faint stirring from the surrounding bushes finally diverted her attention, letting her forget the frustration she felt after the massive doors closed behind her. She turns sharply, eyes sharp and alert, her form tense as she felt the faint stirring of ill-intent. A figure slowly detached himself from his hiding place from the shadows. His face and form was surprisingly plain for one who belongs to the brethren and young besides. The page relaxed slightly.

"You will do well not to lurk around like that. Nobles do not enjoying being spied at. He might take an exemption to your actions and who knows what will happen then. Do you have any business being here?"

"Forgive me, I couldn't help but be curious when the prince suddenly vanished from the halls earlier this night. I was so looking forward to being able to convey my felicitations to our majesty. My name is James. You are a messenger for the Council of Elders? The Volturi?"

"Such as I am. You seem newly made James. I hope for your sake that you will heed the warnings I was sent to deliver to his highness. This is a dangerous time for newborns."

"Is what you said true? That the most likely suspects are those from the nobility? I find that rather—odd." His voice was curiously excited, as if imparting something secretive and mischievous.

"Truth be known, only they have access to all the places the Coven governs. Newly made fledglings as well as ancients recognize the Nobles right—they are the only ones who can get close to both sides without causing any suspicion."

"Well then…I suppose that's as good an assumption as any…pity that though there is much truth in it…no one would believe that..." The young fledgling turned and stepped closer to the wary page. Lifting a soft, delicate hand, he brushed it gently along her jaw as he murmured seductively, "You see…I never leave witnesses…"

A quick draw of strangled breath echoed loudly in the silence of the formal gardens as the hapless page caught sight of the Coven's newest enemy. The bright moon finally revealed eyes ablaze like sun-struck rubies and hair black as the night, the haunting image filled her vision before pain yet known assailed her immortal body. Blood gushed out of her lips as her throat was ripped open with barely restrained violence and a blood-curdling cry shattered the silence of the night though none but rodents and creatures of the night were there to stand witness. Her mangled body dropped to the gravel path without so much as a sound. With a smile that allowed the pale light of the moon to display his fangs, James stepped over the corpse of the unfortunate page and turned towards the door.

**

The servant turned towards the door and wondered if the page decided to risk her life any further. She raised a hand to reach out towards the ornate handle when the door flew open and she found herself carted off in the cold embrace of another Immortal.

The prince was just lifting a gilded crystal flute to his lips when his sensitive ears caught a nauseatingly wily voice coming from the shadows. He resisted the urge to frown at yet another disturbance.

"Leave now and I won't kill you."

"I must say, if you make me leave now, I might be tempted to take advantage of this tasty little morsel. The last one I found was oddly unsatisfying…perhaps your little toy might prove otherwise…"

The man seemed to be made from the mist…pale blond hair coupled with eyes of blue so pale they were like white, his entire form and face seemed so frail at first sight that it might just be in danger of fading as he stood there. That was until you finally noticed the corded strength hidden inside that whip-like body. There was a menacing quality in him that darkened the otherwise pallid impression he showed to the world.

"This little urchin is so tempting, Sire…I vow I couldn't fathom how you could resist taking a bite and tasting what lies beneath this flawless body…the warmth of blood that flutters just underneath this thin layer of skin…I am tempted to devour every little bit…"

The prince began to turn away, dismissing his unwanted guest with a curt wave of his hand.

"I gave no leave to enter my domain fledgling. Were you not taught any better?"

The shameless interloper then walked up to where he was stopping short of actually stepping on the raised dais where his chair was kept, speaking to him with a sickly sweet voice that instantly put him on guard.

"Why did you leave so soon, my lord?" he purred seductively, flashing milky blue eyes at the impassive Prince. The brazen guest licked pale lips stained with the tell-tale sheen of a fresh kill before teasingly hefting the squirming child in his grip. The prince's reply was colder than winter itself.

"You have no cause to seek my presence…leave…if I wanted to be disturbed it would not be for want of better company and certainly yours is no improvement to the foul creature I just preyed upon."

The intruder simply shrugged powerful shoulders clad in gray velvet. "Oh but the hunting grounds seem so boring without you in it…"

"Do not test my patience James…be gone lest I lose any respect for those made by the Night. That I still recognize the ties that bind Immortals is all that keeps you breathing, fledgling."

Locking eyes with the indifferent looking heir, he tossed his golden-haired head arrogantly before running a talon along the child's frail jaw line, smirking wickedly as a red line followed the razor-sharp tilted his pale, gilded head and murmured, "I took it upon myself to see if you are well…you have been curiously absent from the hunting grounds and I was naturally concerned that some ill wind has befallen our beloved Prince…I thought it best to visit you after you have taken your ablutions…it is a well-known fact that you are a stickler for removing the stench of the hunt from your skin…"

Raising one talon-tipped hand had the impact of silencing the cloying flow of words spilling out from the fledgling's lips. He moved fluidly, the ebony silks he wore whispering softly as he arranged himself on the thickly padded damask Victorian fainting couch. Once settled, he pinned his unwanted intruder with eyes lit with scathing derision.

"My habits are none of your concern…to take such an interest is considered vulgar…Though I expected no delicacy or elegance in the fledglings those incompetent members of court insist on making , I assumed they would at least have the consideration to turn someone with taste."

The young man tried in vain to stall his prey's departure, eager to stave off the obvious snub. "Ah! Don't you want me here?" he pouted petulantly, waving his hands animatedly, unmindful of the child that he dangled like a lifeless doll in his clutches.

The prince pinned him a languid look from beneath that betrayed the heat in his gaze. When he opened his lips, his words were low and even. "That baggage you're clutching belongs to me…I gave you no leave to handle any of my possessions. Consider this a last warning for your impudence, slave."

Anger and resentment boiled furiously within the pale, weak eyes of James but he bit back the urge to snarl at the haughty aristocrat. He knew quite well, by rumor and reputation if not personally, that the prince was at his most dangerous when he seemed at his most relaxed state.

"Well, you do have interesting things lying around here, Sire. Take this little thing. It looks so innocent, so untouched. But I guess you and I will never know if this little treat is as unspoiled as it seems…there might be another who has had the pleasure of breaking such spirited little urchin…someone must have left a mark on this enticing property."

"That may be so…but then again that child can lay claim to some form of innocence…the same can never be said about you…"The prince pinned the daring intruder with a cold look his eyes remained seemingly bored and detached. He turned and addressed the distressed little urchin still quietly struggling as he slid the black silk more comfortably on his tall frame.

"You, servant girl! You have lingered here long enough, time for you to go back to where you belong."

James was uncertain what exactly transpired but between a heartbeat and the next, the child that thrashed about helplessly in his arms a mere second ago broke free from his deadly grasp and ran towards its haven in the shadows leaving behind only the unmistakable shimmer of a drawn dagger. He was about to yank it back when he felt a sharp sting and was dumbfounded when he saw that his palms were lacerated and his arms filled with small gashes. He quickly drew back his hands with a sharp expletive.

"Cursed brat! That hellion wounded me!" he shouted. The heir simply stared at the ranting vampire with a pitiless glare and a mocking smile.

"That should teach you a lesson you ought to remember well enough, James of the Hells…everything in my possession bears claws and fangs sharper than those of the hunters that prowl the grounds where you tread…take your wounds and be thankful…" He moved to tug at one of the bell pulls installed in the catacombs. A tall hulking figure emerged from the same shadows where the urchin vanished. This one, however, was no monster but rather an impressively built, heavily muscled man.

"You summoned me Sire?"

"Emmet, kindly throw this vagabond out of my house…I do not wish to see his shadow darkening my doorways ever again. Remind him well of how we deal with uninvited guests in this household."

With that the prince turned away and dismissed the furious James out without a backward glance. As the double panels of thick ebony doors closed before him , James muttered in a dark vicious whisper, "Sleep well…Prince of the Coven…someday I will tear that crown off of your severed head…mark my words…"


	6. Ties that Bind

Authors Note: Standard disclaimer applies. It is a slow process but ultimately satisfying. Please tell me if it these revisions help in clearing up confusions within the story.

* * *

**The Ties that Bind**

It was London at night…at the height of the Season. Just one more glittering night of revelry and the chance to display all the things that matter to high society: wealth, beauty, power. This night the prince is out once more, prowling through the glittering throng of the blessed and the privileged.

The mansion was filled to the rafters. Outside, carriages were lined in a confusing mass of wheels and horses, each vying for a space in the limited dimensions of a private path littered with far too many bodies than it could accommodate, lights streaming clear outside to add to the otherworldly look of the surrounding grounds—bright amidst the foggy, gloomy London night.

The ballroom was elegantly appointed, though already filled to the rafters. Deep burgundy drapes hung from tall windows that allowed for shadows to be created here and there, small intimate alcoves for whispered flirtations and fiercely guarded gossips both mischievous and malicious. Here and there liveried servants darted in and out of the sumptuously dressed guests, offering refreshments and other assorted tidbits while bidding their time until everyone finally calls halt to the celebration.

But if one would but look closely a moment or two, a more discerning eye would note that a few of the guests, handsome each and every one of them, looked a bit too pale in the soft glow of the candlelight. And that these guests, while attired in the most fashionable couture of the time, carried themselves with almost effortless grace and elegance. They never seem to bump into people no matter how crushing the mass of bodies became. They slithered, in and out of the sea of bodies like sleek creatures of the water; blink and they seem to reach one end of the ball room and the next, always poised, always cool and ever-so hauntingly beautiful.

Their faces beggared the imagination and their eyes always cast shyly to the side, never looking up except to flash a look—seductive and arresting in their quickness—before averting their eyes with just the same swiftness and deliberation. Their bodies, each feature in perfect detail, clad in the most luxurious of fabrics, draped in a wealth of gems that seemed to proclaim their honored status. And their hands, for the inherent heat generated by the mob of revelers, held glasses full of refreshment, not a sip taken from the exquisite vintages.

Here is where we find a curios pair like those that first alerted the eyes of the discerning few. They too, like all the other occupants of the room, were attired in their evening finery. Their arresting and startling beauty made even more so by the elegance of their mannerisms and the fabulous wealth they so ostentatiously and carelessly present, displaying a fortune in gems that seemed to flow from the woman's long golden tresses, sprinkled stylishly with pins of diamond and rubies, to the robin-egg sized ruby drops that dripped from her lobes to the glorious thirteen-ruby-piece necklace that dipped into her enchanting décolletage. Dressed to the nines with him in complete and impeccable black velvet evening clothes, snowy white shirt and scarlet cravat and she in a deep, lushly embroidered red satin gown the color of newly split blood on virgin snow, they cut an arresting picture in the colorful sea of ball gowns and evening clothes.

"I heard that someone dared to invade your domain…"

"You certainly maintain an unhealthy interest in my affairs."

"You are lord and Heir to the Coven. My interest in you is expected. Who was it my lord?" The voice was soft and lilting, a perfect complement to its ethereal owner as she curtsied and held on to his arm as they made their way down into the heart of the gathered elite. The response, when it came was succinct.

"It is a creature of no import. Some crude, manner-less upstart from the hells. Hardly worth the effort on my part to be insulted." Delivered in his cool measured tone the utter lack of inflection drowned her desire to parry words with him but she summoned a determined smile and continued.

"You will do well to remember that James is not your typical loyal brethren…he is not one of the old nobles that can recognize between Coven politics and social classes."

With the prince's unusual bronze hair and gilt-edged ruby eyes matched with Rosalie's sensual blonde hair and ocher-tinted gaze, many a glance were drawn their way. Their interest however, was on other matters. The prince's reply was suitably scathing.

"There are very few others who exist knowing Coven politics and fewer still who cares enough to practice them."

"He is as much a slave to his baser nature as any wild untamed beast." Rosalie murmured softly as they prowled the lengths of the elegantly appointed ballroom. "Perhaps it would be for the best if you agree with the Council's proposal to set up guardian--!"

"Have you been eavesdropping again on council meetings Rosalie? Didn't you acquire some hapless mortal some nights ago? Are you telling me that you are already bored enough to meddle in my affairs."

"All I am saying, my lord, is that you should have some kind of protection. Surely the one that you keep near you is hardly enough of a protection and James might--!"

"He will do well to remember that I have no qualms immolating him to dust should he dare cross the line again…I do not suffer fools gladly, Rosalie…you, of all, knows that best. I would and could tear his cursed flesh and scatter it to the four winds if I should wish it."

"But my lord!"

"This topic bores me Rosalie. We will not discuss it again."

"Edward—!"

"I do not recall giving you the right to call me so familiarly…." He pinned her with a cold gaze that gave her no illusion as to what he felt for her. The shock and pain that glimmered in her eyes was lost to the glittered in her jeweled gaze and she was hard-pressed to keep them at bay.

"I—! I only meant to convey my concern. That aside, haven't I always called you thus?"

The prince's lips twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes "You have not earned that privilege back…or have you forgotten that you have fallen from my grace once?"

"My lord!"

"Therefore it would be in your best interest not make the assumption that you have that right…must I remind you to _**learn your place**_…?"

"Forgive me, Sire…I meant no disrespect…"

"Whether you meant that or not matters little to me…Leave me, Rosalie…I tire of your whining melancholic nature…"

"I beg your forgiveness--! I had no choice!"

"Do not lie to me--!" he scoffed. "Forgiveness is not something I grant so easily. Compose yourself. This simpering display isn't for you…and it is tedious for me to watch…"

"But--!"

"You did that act of treachery out of spite and selfish needs…you are a fool if you think I will trust you as I did before…I might have made that mistake once but I am not so foolish as to trust you again—doubt not…I will not commit the sin of ever believing the lies that pour out of your lying mouth."

"I did it for you! I did what I thought was best!"

"That was your mistake…you assumed that you knew me…that you had any say in what I desire. And that, in itself, is most unforgivable…" He turned his gaze away and settled gracefully on a scarlet damask armchair. Sipping a flute of red wine, he murmured softly, "I tire of your persistence in dragging this conversation any further…if you can not make yourself useful…leave me in peace…"

"She was not good for you…" Rosalie whispered brokenly. "I saw that…why couldn't you trust my intuition?"

"Because you made it impossible for me to trust your impartiality." Edward traced the crystal's rim with the tip of a taloned index finger. "Intuition had no place in the decision you made all those centuries ago—it was your ego that you prioritized more than my own benefit. It was your pride that you cared for the most. Isnt that the truth you should be confessing to Rosalie?"

"Highness! That is not true! It had nothing to do with what I had to do--!"

"Is that so? Tell me the truth--though I am aware that you are incapable. You, with your ageless beauty felt threatened by a mere mortal and sought to remove the danger. My welfare had no bearing in the choices you have made."

"She wanted nothing but to control you!"

"And what about you? What was it that you wanted then?"

"I had your best intentions at heart…surely there is no sin in that? Can you blame my loyalty and devotion? I did what I thought was in your best interest--!"

"You dare to make decisions for me? Who are you to dare such impudence?"

"I- you are my lord—I care for you--! I love-!"

"That is enough." The words were whisper soft but it could've been a shout and it would lose none of its menace and violence. "**_Never_**…if you value your life…_**ever**_ mention the word love to me…do not defile the word with the poison of your lips…do not taint it with the lies that you breathe in every moment since that day. Now swear it!"

"I-I-I swear…"

The razor-sharp edge that tinged the simple words was cutting and extremely dangerous. Slowly, he reached out a pale hand and traced the delicate line of Rosalie's chin, caressing the smooth skin softly as he whispered tenderly against her pale lips a death sentence dripping with dark promise.

"The next time you speak of this again I will rip out your immortal heart while it still beats and let you watch as I feed it to the dogs…know your place…I tolerate much from you Rosalie—much—but that will not stay my hand if you make presumptions again…remember that it was duty and duty alone that kept you alive the first time you transgressed…brethren or not if you forget your place for even a single moment again—I will not hesitate in ending your miserable, worthless life…I keep you around to amuse me…do that…because that's all I ask that you do…nothing more…"

"Do I mean nothing to you but a burden to be dispensed with?" Rosalie whispered in a small, trembling voice. Her eyes were closed in pain held barely in check. Her delicate frame shook with a fine tremor that made her jeweled hair shimmer in the faint candlelight. "Is that all that I am to you, Edward? After all these centuries, is that all that I am good for? To amuse you? Have I not earned a place in your heart at all? Am I so unworthy of your affections?"

"Do not seek answers that will never come…Rosalie…be content that you have what you do…I never promised you anything…it was foolish of you to assume that there was more to it than that…" With that he dropped his hand as if he had touched something foul and disgusting. Without a backward glance, he walked away, caring not a whit for the broken, sobbing figure he left behind.


	7. Unexpected Guests

**Unexpected Guests**

His mood soured by the encounter with Rosalie, he found himself gravitating towards the mansion. He wasn't aware of what it was he wanted to do other than feeling a distinct need to be away from the irksome company of beings—mortals and immortals alike. It wasn't until the moment he found himself seated in front of an exquisite harpsichord, a much older version of the instrument that graced his private apartments, stroking the keys to give voice to the quill-plucked strings that he realized he sought the peace offered by his music.

He decided to lose himself in the intricacies and drama of Chopin's nocturnes. He immersed himself in the dark pool that sometimes surfaced when things, events and people reminded him of the strange gap in his immortal memory. He knew well enough that an immortal like him was never expected to forget—more than that it was impossible. No immortal could forget. It was their gift and their curse. But forget something he did. He could not recall the turn of fate that affected him so, regarding a face and a name that mattered greatly to him.

He was so focused on unraveling the tangled skein of his mind through his playing that it took a moment before he noticed the presence that occupied the space he was in. His hands lifted from the keys and he turned wild eyes to his untimely and unwelcome companion.

"What are you looking at?! Your insolence knows no bounds, slave. Tell me who gave you the right to stare at me so boldly?"

Cool, rain-soaked, earth-colored eyes gazed at him without blinking. The young prince wondered anew if the reason fate saw it best not to bestow a voice to the impudent urchin was so that those eyes alone could do the impossible: speak in behalf of their owner. And he was finding it frustrating that one look from his silent servant was all it takes to put him on edge.

_Why…?_

"If you're wondering why I am back so soon, the reason is quite simple. I am bored with those that surround me and I refuse to deal with another immortals whining nature. I went out to be entertained and all I received in return was aggravation."

The young waif-child stood in the corner, as was its custom, attributing to the cause for his earlier inability to notice her presence. Her gaze shifted from scuffed shoes to the stars displayed in all its magnificence from the huge, open balcony and back to his irritated visage. She tilted her head towards the sky and the prince gave a weary snort.

_You have not feasted yet…there is still time…_

"There is no need for me to hunt. Feeding has lost its appeal and I tire from the predictable nature of humans. At times like these I am thankful you are neither. You are neither a mortal to age so slowly nor an immortal cursed with desires and longings that ultimately leads you towards decay and deprivation."

The prince's gaze rested once more on his silent slave. Clad in tattered rags, the child should've looked ridiculous and pitiful as it stood there, isolated from the world because of a wall of eternal silence…and yet, it was the stray's very stillness that spoke volumes…fathomless eyes that turned towards the young prince conveying words more poignant for all their silent eloquence.

_Mortals and immortals differ only in the time they spent living…but you have proven that they are the same…_

Though the child's lips remained closed, the words came anyway…reprimanding and faintly accusing. Conveyed using signals from her small, weathered hands, the words became all the more tangible for the guilt they are trying to show with delicacy and tact. As always when dealing with his taciturn slave, the prince has no words to defend himself… his very nature forbade such an act so he did the next best thing--he ignored the probing eyes that bore into his battered consciousness and promptly lost himself in the haunting strains of the music that echoed the chaos that passed for his soul. And as the ethereal voice of a nocturne sang in the darkness, his half-lidded eyes stared at the diamond-like stars scattered across the inky velvet darkness of the skies above…And for the span of a single moment…the prince of the oldest Coven found a solitary breath of peace…drawing into his lungs the perfume of night blooming roses and wind…his heart beating according to the dips and arcs of the music that intoxicates his mind…

* * *

Two nights after…

The stillness of the night was shattered by the pale light of the moon...rising above the ebony skies, it seemed to echo the foreboding air that lingered like a lover's perfume all over the Manor walls. The prince's loyal and silent sentinel watched as the blood-red moon rose above the thick misty clouds…pulsing with a throbbing beat that reverberated in the servants beating heart…warning her of the oncoming dangers that lurk beneath the lusty moon.

_Someone is here…someone or something is coming out of the darkness._

Carefully, the thick heavy doors parted without a creak, and turning, group composed of three cloaked figures emerged from the shadows…silent as the gloomy air that wafted through the cold marble walls and pulsing with a danger as palpable as the very breath that was eerily absent from the gathered crowd. As if sensing the presence held beyond the shadowed depths, earth-toned eyes narrowed and flickered for a moment before settling into serene depths…bowing, the servant raised a hand to halt in the group that dared to cross their hallowed halls. A disembodied voice spoke in the enveloping gloom.

"We came to see His Highness. It is a matter of importance. We were sent by Healer."

The words had an immediate effect on the silent slave. Without a backward glance, the servant led the way down the winding steps, down into the damp, inky darkness of the inner chambers of their intended and unknowing host. The seneschal raised one thin, pallid hand, and the silent retinue paused dutifully once more beside the carved doors of the inner rooms that hid the Coven's Prince.

Extracting an intricate key that hung from a delicate chain around a more fragile looking neck, the servant turned to a panel heavily decorated with winged beasts and with a flick of the wrist plunged the key into the hole and turned it.

A pause and the heavy doors slid open to reveal a solid black box carved with runes and symbols from civilizations long forgotten by the outside world. The sound of stone sliding against one another resonated until a hand emerged; white as the moon's light, clasping the stones' edge with delicate crystalline talons. Rising like an alluring mirage came a thin, wiry frame, swathed in ebony silks, flowing and undulating against ivory skin, evidently bare beneath the sheer fabric… a cascade of unbound bronze-kissed locks, all at once fiery and cool to the sight and even more to the imagined touch…and finally, a face that seemed more a dream than actual reality was unveiled, with eyes like liquid gold burning with intense fire behind the fall of ebony ice-like lashes.

"I see that you have brought along with you added pests. Very well I will deal with them. I have no need for you here…leave me be…"

The slave bowed and melted back into the darkness. A figure detached itself from the throng of cloaked guests. As the figure took steps to bring itself closer to the imperious looking Prince, a regal looking creature emerged from beneath the fall of a crimson cloak, one pale hand brushing back the hood held fastened by a clasp that kept the slippery fabric closed at the neck, flicking the clasp open until it fell in a graceful heap beneath the cold stone floors.

"Your Highness…"

"Is it you Jasper."

"Aye. It's has been a long time now…Sire…"

The creature spoke with the clear, crisp accents of the nobility. Hair as bright as early morning sun flared against the catacombs usual gloom, skin pale as the most prized ivory shone as though polished with unholy light as eyes, bejeweled and shimmering rose to respectful halt at the Prince's chest and no higher. His carriage was military-straight and his manner oddly courtly as if they were conducting this scene in the comfort of a ballroom instead of a shadowed catacomb.

"Jasper…it has been centuries and still your manner has remained courteous as ever. Though I fear you are mistaken…it hasn't been long enough."

"I apologize for our sudden arrival. I know that it would have been only polite that we inform you of our intentions but I feared that my messages would be intercepted by wily hands and malicious minds."

"Your caution, as always, is a welcome balm to my own paranoia but I think you are lost…I'm sure you can find your way back to your real destination, and the sooner that is the better. I will extend accommodations for you and your guest for a night. Though I expect you to be gone before moonrise."

"I am grateful, as always for your generosity. I am, however, not lost, I came here as intended. Is that so unbelievable, my lord?"

"I do not care to take the notion of fathoming the about the workings of a demented mind, Jasper…if you must insist on following the mad working of the Council, kindly leave me out of it…"

"The Council of Elders has nothing to do with my mission tonight. I came here on the insistence of another person. He insisted that she be brought here…Sire…"

"The Council has nothing to do with it? I swear sometimes I wonder at your own naiveté. I have neither need nor desire for a burdensome pet or another slave… And if they thought to lure me with another temptation or worse a bride candidate assure them that I can have any woman I desire. The least I want is one that can lay claim to my name…"

"But my lord…this is no fiancée that I bring…"

"Then…who is this pitiful creature who thinks she'll be landing in my royal bed?""

"Majesty, I was tasked to bring Lady Esme to your side…"

At those words, every other that should've and wouldve said drained away. His entire being was held captive by the movement of one of the two hooded figures that until then remained silent. This one broke free from the shadows and slowly undid the cloak that conceals until it, too fell on the floor. The torchlight gave the lone figure an ethereal halo that defied description. Hair the warm shade of caramel… unbound and free-flowing it was easy to see the thin ropes of priceless pearls wound around each delicate strand, braiding around the thin tresses until it shimmered and glimmered with each breath… clad in a pristine white gown, the image seemed to be made out of a block of marble and ivory, moving with languid grace that could not be attributed to anything mortal…the figure continued its measured pace, one foot moving in front of the other in poised cadence until it stopped just an arms' length away from their stricken host. Executing a flawless bow, the figure finally lifted alabaster arms, removing a gossamer layer of veil that hid a face that bore a striking resemblance to the taciturn heir. Thin lips paler than the kiss of a newly sprung rose, a small pixie-like nose rising above high, exquisitely carved cheeks that were shined with the merest hint of a blush all formed a perfect backdrop for a pair of mesmerizing eyes. Thick lashes white as fleece and silvered at the tips rose to reveal glittering jeweled orbs of sun-struck gold.

As those stunning eyes swept past the silken-clad body and the arrogant tilt of the Prince's head, she gave another small sign of obeisance before murmuring in a whispery voice softer than a trail of mist.

"Your Highness… I am called the Lady Esme…"

Edward found his eyes glued to the figure before him…he stood still, motionless and barely breathing as his eyes erupted in a wild blaze that were concealed behind the icy veil of his legendary control. Only the prominent shine in his jewel eyes gave his agitation away. When he spoke, his voice was emotionless and calm as ever. He gently lifted her small hands and gave it a soft kiss.

"My lady…"

"It is an honor to finally meet you, Sire."

"No, the honor is mine…" he murmured softly as he added in an even softer voice that only the wind heard his aching tones "…Mother…


	8. Shattered Illusions

Authors Note: Standard disclaimer applies. Its been a long time coming to this part. This I think, it one of the trickier part of the tale my mind concocted but I think this lays down the foundation of what's to come next. Also, some of the characters (like the Volturi) might be a different from the canon but as I pointed out, this is an alternate universe tale. So don't kill me for taking creative license. Hopefully I would receive feedback on how I am doing with this. My thanks once again - kuroren23

**Shattered Illusions**

**

* * *

EDWARD POV  
**

She was a familiar figure…beloved and treasured from all those years ago…a memory that was always there… a memory as real to me as anything I considered my own…real as the truth that I keep close to my heart that I am immortal and will not die until I will it…or until someone stronger than me comes along…she was one aspect of my truth…unblemished, untainted by the lies I have weaved around myself more tightly than my own skin…

Oblivious to neither the warnings of my wary heart nor the tremors of my body; I gave myself to the spell of her presence completely… blinding me to everything and everyone around me—James…the nameless third figure beside him, my silent servant… the mansion…this catacomb…everything vanished completely from my mind…wiped clean of any vestige of importance. Nothing mattered but the reality and certainty of her presence right before me.

The very way the pale light shone against her was intoxicating to my senses…gradually enslaving my thoughts to days long past. Like a long-lost treasure lost once and now regained, my undeniable need for some semblance of my past captures me whole…uncaring and mindless to the need to shield my heart against the bitter pill of reality even as in inevitably encroaches near…at that moment, all that mattered, all that I could see was her. Had any of my enemies been near they could've plotted my murder and I would have stood there—still and unresisting even until after a knife plunges straight into my undead heart.

My eyes drowned in her living image. SO much was my hunger for her that I unconsciously stopped the blink-reflex of my own eyes, fearful of missing even a moment of having her near. She was so much like before and yet so different all at once, because now, she is clearly more meaningful to me now than ever before…and I didn't to mind…having been without her for so long…loving her without question, thought or reason. I adored her wholeheartedly. And that alone was reason enough for me to forget . . . . If only for now . . .

I pressed soft kisses to her hands, taking in her presence…hoping that I wasn't frightening her with the intensity of what I was feeling…and yet unable to curve the yearning that assails me all the same…wondering if she feels the same way…

With her, returned to my side, I could wish for nothing else. I closed my eyes and sighed, burying my face deeper into her ever-comforting scent. A man cleared his throat, abruptly snapping my attention back to the present and reminding me of where and who I was. It was then that I figured what was missing...the nagging voice inside my head finally managing to make itself heard…

_Warmth…why is she not getting any warmer…? Why is she not returning my embrace…? Has she forgotten all about me…?_

Suddenly…fear assailed me like an illusion ruined by the light, I lifted thick obsidian lashes and saw a truth that mocked my joy and turned it into poison swimming in my veins. I found myself gripping her hands tightly as I stood there, gathering my shattered reserve like a shield and I found the strength to make my thoughts known in a voice that could freeze the very heart of a burning inferno. I pointed a finger at the one who brought this waking nightmare close to me.

"Jasper…."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Tell me…when did she became thus…"

Like bile that embittered my tongue, I acknowledged the truth I recognized too late…and though I was loathe to destroy the very mirage I would trade my very life for, I ran the pads of my sensitive hands over her as my eyes followed suit…I noted the pale smoothness of her skin that the dimness of my chambers helped to belie…the cold laden weight of her limbs as I eagerly touched my lips to the hands that cradled me all those long dark nights ago…but even then I refused to completely believe…

"I do not understand what you mean Sire…"

"I speak plainly Jasper and for your continued existence speak to me thusly as well...when did she cease being mortal…?"

Before me she stands once more…still like she always seemed to be and yet unlike all the times I've viewed her before this night, now she stands poised like some creature of fantasy about to take flight from the watching eyes of mortal men…she carried with her the ephemeral air of a creature that was not of this world…no longer part of the mortal world from whence she once hailed…

"Sire…she has always been thus…"

"No!" I screamed in outrage, uncaring for the stares I knew I was gaining, wounded more than they could ever understand by the utter blankness and coldness in her gaze "That is a lie…she was not always… tell me Jasper when did she yield to the night?"

My heart and my sight were blinded by my longing to feast on the vision that has haunted my dreams and kept me awake for countless nights…my famed hunter's instincts dulled by the hunger that has been gnawing at my soul since the time night became my very world… my everything…Finally, I forced myself to see her…to look beyond my neediness…past the despair her long absence has wrought…I steeled my resolve and gazed back at the illusion I was hesitant to shatter into pale fragments of truth…

"I can not answer your query my lord. She is as she has always been. I have not known a time when he was not one of the Night. She is your mother then just as she always has been. She is one of us."

"That cannot be…"

"Sire…it is truth…"

"Lady…"

"Yes, my lord…"

Her beautiful eyes lifted and then I felt it…my worn, cold, withered heart clench until it splintered like frail, delicate glass…she was winter personified… and like winter she is devoid of all semblance of life…her hands graceful almost to a fault were icy and unable to feel…though every gesture, curve and arch intended to leave viewers in awe of what true beauty can do, she will never again be truly beautiful…because unlike all things that could die, she is no longer true…and as riveting as her amber-colored fey eyes were, madness tainted the very edge of her gaze…they were curiously empty…devoid of any emotion save eerie calm and complacence…the looks she dispensed had no warmth or regard…no flame wells from her eyes just as no fire would ever set them ablaze ever again…

"May I ask you a question Lady…?'

"But of course, Sire…ask what you will of me…I am your humble servant."

"You have my thanks, my lady…"

"Ask, my lord…"

"When were you turned…?"

"Turned? I have always been what I am now my lord…"

As she stood there before me, I admitted to myself that the night marked my true awakening…as I stare at her face and form I realize that there was no longer any trace of the creature I hungered after for all these centuries past…There was nothing in her…not a trace or spark of being save for the undeniable and inexplicable sadness that wells from the depths of her gaze…the grief that screamed in utter silence from beneath the constant smile painted cruelly on her lips…

"No…you were not always thus…you were once so much more…so much more…"

"My lord? Have I caused you any offense? I am sorry--"

"Forgive me…you have caused me no offense. In truth, it is I who should ask for your forgiveness. I have forgotten myself…"

In a blink of an eye and with the barest displacement of air I was back on my throne…my impregnable seat of power…seemingly as if I had never left except for the faint billowing of the silken folds on the ebony silk that clung around my nubile form…

"Jasper…"

Yes, my lord?"

"Take the Lady Esme to Voltaire Castle…Keep her there…you are to be her guardian…make sure that she will not want for anything…protect her with your life…and Jasper?"

"Yes Sire?"

"Until I will it…or until I send someone of trust…never bring her to my presence again…"

"My lord--!"

"I command it, Jasper."

"As you wish my lord."

And as Jasper prepares to depart from the tension-filled chamber, a new voice spoke, making my spine stiffen in anger before my eyes flashed gold. It was then that the presence I ignored before spoke…letting me hear a voice that caused my blood to boil in a flash point…

"I see that even though time has indeed stopped for you, you are still sharp as ever…even in the midst of your shattered illusions…you keep your head Prince of the Coven…"

Beside me I heard the sound of an outraged growl followed by the steely song of Jasper's sword being drawn out but even that was beyond my concern now. I trained my gilded eyes on Jasper's irked visage and the outrage that fairly radiated off us both.

"Did you bring this menace to my door Jasper?" I murmured softly and watched as a vivid red splashed upon Jasper's chagrined face.

'I assure you my lord; the council assured me that this one is simply a guide for the Lady Esme. I have brought him on the recommendations of the Council!"

"It is enough Jasper. Take the Lady Esme and go. Take her as far from this place as you can."

"But my lord, what about you? I cannot leave you alone here."

"What need do I have to fear a piece of trash like Aro. Leave us. I can deal with the rubbish the Council sends my way. I have always done so."

"Sire--!"

"My orders are to be followed. You needn't fear. Emmet will accompany you." An uncharacteristic smile tugged at my lips, surprising Jasper. "And if you stumble across my silent servant drag along the foolish child with you. She has served me as best as she could, she needn't suffer with me any longer."

* * *

**_Isabella POV_**

I saw the figure of my master's third guest emerge like a phantom from the shadows as I huddled in the corner, forgotten by everyone as I watched the players of this unusual tableau play their part…each motivated by some unknown force…haunted by some unmentioned sin…their voices though soft bore a strange intensity, one I can not fathom beyond than the fact it was vaguely disturbing.

_**They are causing my master some manner of discomfort. I should ask them to leave soon…surely he can not want them here…**_

I watched, silent as only someone like me could be, I kept my gaze pinned on my Master, even if some latent part of my mind was screaming at me to run, to find a hiding place because something dangerous was coming near…something evil was slowly gaining ground…something I couldn't fight … something that boded ill for both my insignificant self and my distraught proud Master…when I heard his voice raised first in anger and then distress the feeling grew even more insistent.

_**Leave master…ask them to leave…I beg you banish them from this place! Something isn't right! There is danger here…master!**_

So intent was I worrying over my master's distress that I failed to realize when a pair of shadows previously unnoticed appeared behind me. A slight breeze wafting from the now opened doorway first caught my attention and it was then that the notion of intruders dawned on me. I scrambled to get my master's attention and warn him of the threat of an attack when I was caught squarely into the snare of one of the two trespassers, my lips sealed shut by the feel of a huge and powerful aura exerting an alarming presence over me. One look at the blazing burgundy eyes of my captor and everything in me felt like I was plunged into the deepest heart of winter's embrace. My body, though small and usually agile as a fox felt laden with lead…my skin condensed with perspiration more chilly that water that flows though a frozen tundra.

_**Too late…I was too late…**_

The figure moved towards me but something was very wrong with the way he was walking. Used as I was to the lithe, elegant movements of those born of the Night and living with my nimble-footed master, this mysterious guest floated more than walked as he reduced the distance between us. There seemed to be something disturbing and chilling about the silent way he prowled the marble floors…silent…like death…

_**Yes…Death comes…Death comes for someone in this house…**_

A pale, frail hand emerged from beneath the heavy folds of the dark clinging cloak that concealed all but his obvious masculine gender. With a graceful flick of his wrist, the cowl was lowered until locks white as snow slithered and spilled unto wide shoulders, framing a face that would shame paintings that lined those of famed cathedrals and castles. His translucent skin looked ageless; the smile that lingered on thin lips invited the seer to share in his humor. But for all his apparent beauty, the look in his eyes betrayed him. Glittering eyes the color of priceless rubies revealed the lack of humanity in him. They were amused, nostalgic but oh so cold and calculating like twin flames encased in everlasting ice.

_**Death comes for us…He—they have come for us…**_

He opened his lips and called out something but I failed to comprehend what it was at first. His voice had an evocative cadence that seduced my thoughts even as it chilled my blood…stirring in the memories that lay dormant inside my own soul…calling towards something…or someone…for the first time in centuries my body and mind allowed me to give voice to the thoughts running in my head.

"I-I-I know you…"

"Ah she speaks! How long as it been since you last did that exemplary feat?"

"Y-you…I know you…y-you…?!"

"Do you remember me now child?"

"I see you in my dreams…You're a monster--!"

"Monster? How rude. My name is Caius…but then I assume that you have forgotten that dearest Ysobel or it is Isabella now…you have forgotten a whole lot more than just my name or yours, haven't you?"

"Y-you…who is Isabella…? Why are you--!"

He smiled at me and beckoned me closer with his hand outstretched—reaching out as if to welcome me into his arms. Unable to resist, I allowed myself to be drawn into his embrace, I felt him kiss my cheeks and murmur something in my ear as I felt the icy cold touch of his hand on my chest. Pain bloomed so sharply within me that I gasped aloud. As my gaze misted up with unshed tears that sprang suddenly to my eyes, I remembered the huskily whispered words in my ears as memories came crashing down, dragging me into the grip of unending night.

"_You will never have him…and he will never find you…already he has forgotten about the face and form of the one that enslaved his heart…soon we will wipe out every trace of you from his memory…his heart will never beat again, little one, WE WILL NEVER ALLOW him to escape the night…"_

_

* * *

_**EDWARD**

Standing before me was a creature whose very shadow I would kill…a monster whose existence I condemned into the darkest pits of hell…I spat out his name like the vilest expletive that I had in my vocabulary…my lips twisting into a grimace of distaste at the bitter taste of his name on my cold lips.

"Aro…"

He stood there, lowering the hood of the cloak that concealed his face until now, staring at me intently with his all too-knowing, shimmering ruby eyes. Amusement and cunning charm shimmered like a sparkling veil around him, taunting me to yield to the violence simmering in my blood like a vile concoction as he ripped out the mask he used to gain entrance into my hall.

"Child…you surprise me…I didn't expect you to remember me…or recognize me behind my charming little mask. It is a rather ingenious take on the idea of masks if I do say so my self. However did you know?"

He tossed the discarded mask and it took all my considerable control not to give away any emotion when I noted that the mask was an actual human face-ripped clean off its original owner for the use and amusement of a vile Immortal.

"I would know your wretched stench anywhere. Is ruling in my stead so boring that you resort to ripping off the faces of mortals and concealing your face beneath theirs? I assure you it was an improvement on your part. Mortals, at least have some semblance of uniqueness to them. Tell me have you grown bored with your own accursed visage?"

"Have you? I wonder how it is that you can know me so well. It is because you still live within the memories of those years spent wallowing in self-recriminations and pity?"

My eyes flashed though they were under the concealing shadows of my lashes, my temper roused by the amusement threading his voice. Once, I would have reigned in my temper and not give in to the anger welling inside me...once I would have silenced the wrath that filled me with its obsidian poison and treated him with icy disdain that he so deserved...once, when the man that stood before me was still a trusted member and minion in my Coven. With much effort, words slipped from my lips with barely concealed venom.

"You are not something I want to recall but its part of the Immortal's curse…would that I could erase you from my mind like the unmistakable slight that you are to the honor of the Coven. But then again this Coven is the same one that elected you in my place. Elected to rule it in my stead until I deem it and everything that it stands for worthy enough."

He gave a slight chuckle before running his hands thoughtfully the cascade of his silky raven mane. He touched a hand to his lips and gave me a conspiratorial smile and wink.

"Do you really believe that Prince of the Coven? That they meant my post as a temporary one and that it is something I would even consider gracefully surrendering if and when you grow bored enough with your imposed exile? Even knowing that now I am in charge of the Coven you so thoughtlessly discarded in a fit of whimsy?"

I lowered my lashes once more to conceal the growing fire in my gaze. I sat languidly on the velvet armchair that was placed on the raised dais, my pose giving no hint of the burning urge to pounce at him like a wildcat on a hunt. Arranging the delicate folds of the slippery silk I pinned him with a look filled with boredom and condescension.

"Oh yes…I heard rumors that you have grown fond of that thankless job. But then again, hand me downs seem to be good enough for someone of your kind. I do not expect anything from that quarter."

It brought a small sliver of cold joy in my heart when I saw his ruby eyes blaze with barely held rage. He knew the implied insult in my words and was loathe not being able to deny me my truth.

"Your conceit knows no bound. You have no right to be so hostile or cold…you are an exile, banished from the Coven…addressing me is not one of your few remaining rights…"

I nodded my head meditatively, smiling as my eyes swept across the room.

"It's true that I no longer have any dealings with the Council or the Coven but that is due to my own devices…the Coven no longer pleases me…and I no longer feel any ties to the ruling of old men…and doddering old fools…but then again, you are well aware of that."

"If only they could see that it is I and not you who is destined to rescue them from their miserable existence. Unfortunately such doddering old men as you state simply would not see reason. Actually they had no need for me after the night you were created, Prince of the Coven…" came the soft reply. A raised eyebrow was all that I gave as a response.

"Created…" A derisive snort, "you mean turned...you are getting senile…is this the extent to which you have sunk Aro of the Volturi? Making up wild tales to regale the rabble that clings to you in false hope of attaining glory?"

"Sunk? Perhaps…but you are wrong…unlike all the others, you were created dear Prince…not turned…"

"You speak like a fool…or have you forgotten how we are all made?"

"No dear Prince…it is you who have forgotten…perhaps this will remind you…perhaps this will give you taste of what power the Coven can and will wield should they find a reason to do it."

With a quick flick of his wrist, Aro tossed to me a silver flask, intricately carved with ancient runes. With a rueful smirk, I waved the flask.

"I'm not that much of a fool, to drink anything you chose to give me…I have learned early on to trust only a feast prepared by my own hands and besides, I have all the willing prey I need. I prefer my food to be taken from the source—if you will. As for power, I have had my fill of it."

"It's just blood…take a sip and know for yourself, exactly what you are missing…"

"I know exactly what I am…I am Prince of the Coven…dare I ask what you are Aro?"

His gaze turned shrewd and calculating as words spilled from his lips like a chant…the memories they conveyed like a fevered dream in my veins…

"Do you dream Prince of the Night? Does the death sleep that light forces you to succumb filled with feelings not unknown but unreasoned for they have no cause you can recall? Do memories haunt your mind like a plague that knows no cure, tormenting you with the images and voices and feelings that you can never pin down long enough to know? Do you fall prey to the rage that burns with a flame you did not stoke?" Aro leveled a malicious smile my way before murmuring softly. "Do you dream of the one that holds elusive hope in her arms? A nameless, faceless being that offers you a taste of heaven you yearn to achieve once again?"

"What madness is this? What are you talking about?"

"Drink that and find your answers, proud Prince…find the truth that you seek about the one that calls to you in the long hours of the night. Tell me Prince, are you not curious—consumed by a need stronger than any you have ever known to put a name to the face that haunts your vision"

"How do you know that…?"

"Because that blood will show you who you truly are…what you have missed all this time when they have confined to you this pale illusion of a life…"

"I chose this life! I made the choice to leave everything behind me…"

"You know what you have become but not why you chose such a fate…but even that doesn't answer how you came to be…what you were before Night claimed you for its own…"

"I have no doubts…I have my memories of--"

"You have questions…"

"You do not have the answers I seek…"

"Don't I…? Would you care to put that to the test?" Aro grinned, baring fangs that were long and extremely sharp, eyes glittering with a fevered flame. "It's time to put your courage to the mettle, Child of the Coven…do you have the courage to seek out the truth?"

I stared at his eyes and felt a shiver crawl up my spine…A moment of doubt assailed me but I silenced it with a vicious intent. Without a word I twisted the silvered cap and emptied the flasks' contents into my mouth.

The moment that cold liquid touched my lips I realized that something was very wrong. The first was that child that served me was clasped in the arms of another man whose name I despised. The second thing to hit me was that I could not hear the beating of a heart, her heart. It was then that I realized that her heart was being held in the blood soaked hand of the man—who tore it from her chest while beating still, the man who was even now allowing her lifeless body to fall carelessly from his arms and unto the cold marble floor. I could still hear the faint beating of her heart as it slows down to its last, final attempts to hold on desperately to life.

All at once pain assailed me as the first drop of her blood coated my tongue, the familiar taste of it making the ache more exquisite as my mind was suddenly flooded by images from the darkness from where they were kept. Accompanying me to the depths of oblivion was the last beat of her heart as I was plunged into a whole new hell of my own making.

* * *

Aro stood still for a moment, contemplating the picture the fallen piece made against the onyx marble floors when a voice spoke from the shadow and Aro inclined his head gracefully in response. A silent exchange passed between the two, the words spoken was much to soft and quite for anyone else to hear. When they finished they turned at the sound of the heavy doors closing and as one, turned to watch Caius saunter further into the room with his usual prowling grace.

"That was enjoyable to watch."

"You took inordinate pleasure in instilling fear in the child Caius. How very callous of you."

"Spare me the linguistic puns you so delight in Aro. The night is young and I am left unsatisfied by this farce of a hunt. I wish for the challenge of hunting down prey. That spoiled prince's toy is nothing more than a pesky gnat." He cast aside his cloak and allowed the fallen garment to cover the prone body of the now unconscious prince.

"Ah…patience dearest Caius. Patience and analysis for possibilities lying just beneath the surface would serve us better than brute force. As Marcus pointed out a moment ago, strategy is everything in this game for power."

"Speaking of which, Marcus why do you stay in the shadows whilst we celebrate this clever plot?"

Only silence greeted Caius' words and he gritted his teeth in clear exasperation. He surged forward to confront Marcus when he felt Aro's restraining grip on his arm.

"Patience brother and let us leave Marcus to his eccentricities. He means no harm. He just dislikes being confined in spaces where he lacks room to walk around and dwell in his thoughts."

"I will heed it this time but hear my words Marcus…it would not do well for you to provoke my ire simply because you think I am beneath you."

The shadow shifted and stirred until another cloaked figure appeared from its depths as if born from it. A pale hand appeared from beneath the concealing weight of the heavy cloak and pushed back the hood to reveal another face of extraordinary beauty. Jet black hair and milky burgundy eyes looked out from beneath the cloak's shadow. Though his eyes focused on Caius and his lips moved not one whit, the words came anyways.

_"Only you would think that I would even deign to wonder if you were beneath me or not Caius. There are few things in the world that commands my interest. It just so happens that you are not one of them."_

"Are you seeking a fight to relieve your boredom Marcus? Perhaps I could rearrange the set order of your priorities into something far more palatable for the rest of us." Caius muttered with a snarl. The look of intimidation however fell short when Marcus simply turned away from him.

_"Do I like a simpleton to you? Go chase after your precious mongrels…they, more than I, find your charms worth the time."_

"Why you—!"

Aro decided to speak then. His expression genial and his voice pitched at a soothing tone. He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace and offered each companion a smile. "Marcus, Caius that is enough. Come, come. I do not wish for a fight to ensue on the very night we have managed to move our plans one step further towards the end goal. It would be unseemly for the powers that be if the Volturi squabble like the common rabble that is our kin."

Caius cast a disgruntled gaze at the indifferent pose Marcus struck and muttered a few choice words too quiet for anyone else to catch before stalking out of the room. Aro gave a small laugh at the departing figure before turning towards the rooms other occupant.

"You would do well not to bait him too much nor provoke his temper too well Marcus. Caius is tractable and loyal to a fault but his emotions and interest rules over his head like a well trained hound."

"Apt description, brother, as expected from someone destined for the throne. You certainly have made efforts to know your beloved minion well."

"Caius is hardly a minion. He is one of us, one the Volturi—he is the same as you or I." Aro directed another smile towards Marcus but like Caius' apparent dislike; it too fell short in the face of Marcus' stoic visage. Aro watched as Marcus pace slowly around the muted light of the catacombs, pale white fingers reaching out to touch the silky strings of a harp placed in a corner as he walked past.

"In that regard I must disagree. In the end, we are all but minions. Though the Volturi claim that their powers and stable leadership is based on the impartiality of its triumvirate—the truth stands that when all is said and done, only one leader shall take the helm of the Coven and lead us all. True power can not be wielded by so many hands effectively."

"In that you speak true. I would be more than willing to yield everything to the one who would be proven most deserving amongst all of us. I only wish what's best for the Coven."

"Indeed. If only that is the wish of most of our kind."

"If everyone concerned would learn to control themselves there would not have been any need for the creation of the Volturi and we would not have had to endure centuries of policing the vermin disguising themselves as Immortals."

"What you say is true." Marcus paused before he gave a soft sigh and lifted once more the hood of his cloak, effectively disguising his features once more.

"Marcus?"

"Caius waits outside. He is not alone."

"Ah. The witch comes at last."

"Your choices often make me question the fate you are weaving for yourself Aro."

"Ah well, circumstances sometimes create a need for stranger bed fellows Marcus."

"If you say so. I am going on ahead, back into the Volturi. I do not care much for dealing with the rabble of the dark arts. Being in their company induces revulsion within me. Call out to Caius. I don't think his temper would stand for being made to wait for long."


	9. Bleeding Moon

**Bleeding Moon**

**

* * *

  
**

It was a place in seemed to lie in between the worlds. An unknown strip of land akin to limbo composed of unending night, deep shadows and characterized by the kind of coldness that numbs even the most stalwart of Immortals. It's a place of despair and consuming emptiness that could rival the infamous Tartarus of Grecian lore.

It is in this void that he awoke. Trapped like a common criminal, held in bondage by a covetous heart that earned his keep for betraying the council that once used to be mine to command. Here he was, held in thrall, chained to the wall like a prized pet, his skin shimmering faintly with the barest trace of a means of enslavement far better than steel and stone or sunlight. He was trapped by a witch's spell. Worse it was a witch that was turned into a vampire. An immortal that practices the ancient arts whose words reverberated within the cavernous abyss taunting him even when the silence mocks him.

"_I told you there was no way I would ever let you go…you are mine…and mine you shall remain until the end of days."_

_**Merde. Curse be all Immortals who dabbled in the darkest of the arts!**_

In a quiet corner of a forgotten shadow a scene was playing out as it has been for the last century…the players…both aware of each others idiosyncrasies and motives…each aware of their ill-intent for the other… A single of shaft illuminated the unlikely pair--one obviously female with hair as vibrant as the sunset cascading down to the floor in a molten river of rippling copper, clothed in a diaphanous gown that seemed more like a sigh than actual fabric, her face was raised to meet the gaze of her unwilling partner. Her visage beggared description, arched brows over deep set fiery garnet eyes, thin, exquisitely shaped nose and full, pouting lips currently sporting a knowing smile exuding an air of absolute control as she purred softly.

"Have you awoken my lord? Is there any desire you wish for me to fulfill for you Sire?"

He towered over the woman, his figure made even more imposing by being suspended a few feet off the floor by chains locked on his wrist and ankles, his aura fairly screaming violence towards anyone foolish enough to come near. His hair, unusual reddish locks the color of newly minted blood-soaked bronze coins trailed past sinewy arms and pooled nearly to his hips framing a face that was chiseled and sculpted by the best artisans that the gods could spare.

His arms and legs were held back by crimson satins bands and barbed chains of silver blackened by age and frigid temperatures dripping in blood that kept him suspended aloft…chaining him…holding back the sheer ferocity of his repressed rage by virtue of the loss of his Immortal blood, keeping him weakened most of the time…the wrath that was never more so blatant than when viewed from eyes that burned pure gold…blazing like the flames of a thousand hells. When he finally parted pale, thin lips to speak his voice could've easily frozen the very heart of a desert…devoid of any feeling save undeniable revulsion and utter contempt.

"Ah…no wonder I was yanked out of the heaven I was in and back into this hell…you're back…did hell spit you out again or did the devil just grew tired and kicked you out before you even opened your filthy mouth Victoria?"

Her features remained poised…unfeeling...as if the words that spilled from between clenched masculine lips never came to pass. Only the glittering flames in her cold eyes gave away the bitter hatred that she felt and the frustration she could barely keep in check as she recalled the night he came into her possession

FLASHBACK

_The room was cold and filled with shadows kept back by the pale illumination of the candle's light. When the doors swung shut behind her, she tried not to pay any mind to the small frisson of fear that crawled up her spine. She dropped a curtsey and decided to break the expectant silence that seemed to permeate the room._

_"The light of many moons smile upon you, my Lord."_

_"Your greeting is that of the old courts, how pleasing. To what do I owe the pleasure of this night's visit?"_

_"I came to collect my prize Highness. I came to collect the payment promised by my lord." She turned when she heard Caius give out an indelicate snort._

_"You deem to command us, Slave?"he sneered._

_"I do not seek to give offense, my lord but the night wanes and there is much for me to prepare." Her gaze flickered over Caius but her attention remained focused on the amused face of Aro and the small smile that slashed across his pale lips._

_"The night indeed wanes over the heavens. But I am afraid I am confused as of the moment. What prize is it that you wish to claim?"_

_"The prize promised me, Highness, for the service I have rendered tonight. I lay claim on the Evening Star, the one called Flame engulfed in darkness. I want your Fallen One."_

_"You seek to claim the Prince of the Coven as your prize? As payment for a task rendered? A service given?"_

_"I see the Prince that stands and speaks before me Highness. I see or know of no other."_

_"You flatter me, fledgling."_

_"I merely state what I see."_

_"You mean you know what your audience expects to hear and depending on your need, you either relent to their desires or not." Caius spoke with feral amusement as he reached out a taloned-hand and scraped it across a marble pillar._

_"Is that in anyway different from his Highness' ways? I am merely seeking a means to secure what is mine."_

_"Is that how you see things now Victoria?"_

_"Yes, Highness. I did as I was bid. I found the place you sought. I gave you the means to gain entry inside its walls without detection. I have done my task. Now I simply ask that you give me what I have been promised at the start of this enterprise."_

_"Indeed you have done what I asked for and to a very effective degree at that."_

_"I pray his Highness would not renege on the contract promised to me—I have done my task! All I ask if that what I desire be given to me as it is my due."_

_"Victoria, Victoria…you mistake my meaning. You see I am faced with a rather delicate impasse here."_

_"What predicament is this you speak of Highness?"_

_"You see, the prize we agreed upon is not one I could bestow easily."_

_"Highness--!"_

_"Not to say that I am not willing to give it. I am more than willing. There is, however, the matter of its confinement and preservation."_

_"I collect to keep, not kill. What I seek is to break that beautiful spirit."_

_"That may be. But the prize, though expendable at the moment, must remain within the realm of the living. More to the point, it must be returned at one point."_

_"Returned! That is not what we agreed upon! Highness!!!"_

_"Listen first you screeching banshee! Aro still speaks and the next time you interrupt you won't be in any shape to claim your prize if and when we give it."_

_"Take heed, Victoria. Caius is never one for idle chatter or empty threats. It would be wise if you calm down and listen to what I have to say. Now will you listen?"_

_"Aro I don't understand this need of yours to gain the approval of lowlifes and slaves. Demand it, command it or force it from them. This unnecessary aggravation no Immortal should submit himself willingly to. It is pointless and it undermines the Volturi."_

_"Caius. The matter must be dealt with utmost delicacy. Now, Victoria, understand this. I am willing to grant the agreement we have. I will give you this prize of yours, provided that you follow a few simple terms. One, it must remain alive. Two, if at any point the Council demands that its presence be brought to them, you must comply and third, you will never tell anyone where you are keeping this prize. It must remain a secret between all of us here. Do you understand? If you do and you agree to my terms, we will have our accord."_

_"Why must all these terms be followed for a prize that is rightfully mine?"_

_"Do not be obtuse Slave. The prize you so arrogantly asked for is one of great value to the Council and the Grand Coven. And while such a treasure could be misplaced or even lost for a time, it can never actually be destroyed or owned, for that matter, by another."_

_"Am I to understand that as long as no one asks or actively searches for this prize, then I am free to keep it for however long that may be?"_

_"I commend your quick grasp of the matter. Now that the matter of your temporary ownership has been settled, may I inquire as to how you intend to keep him?"_

_"I have wards prepared--!"_

_"Foolish Slave! This is a powerful Immortal you seek to bind and you would use wards? WARDS? He is not some common spirit! Here! Use these!"_

_Caius brought out a long length of silver chains blackened with age and with the stain of what could only be rivers of blood._

_"My lord…these are chains of silver…I assume that these are for the Children of the Moon?"_

_"Forgive my brother's enthusiasm. But with the decline and I fear, extinction of these offspring's of the moon, Caius has had no chance to indulge in his favorite sport. I hope you could properly appreciate this magnanimous gesture on my brother's half." _

_There was an expectant smile hovering on both their faces and it took more courage than she possessed to smile and accept the gift with the proper amount of gratitude._

_"Thank you my lords. These chains would do well to keep my prize in his place. It would not kill him, I suppose?"_

_"No, unfortunately, they will not."_

_"Caius. Mind your words. No, Victoria, these will not kill your prized trophy; merely keep him in a weakened state. Exactly the kind of behavior you'd favor from one such as that one, believe me."_

Yes, she did believe Aro's words that night. Nearly five decades into his captivity and her prize have remained weakened from the constant blood loss. But that was all she has managed to accomplish after years of holding him. His mind cleared a great deal from the pain the constant blood loss induced and he began to unlock slowly, memories that seemed to have been locked deep within him, resulting first in his rages and uncontrollable attempts at freedom before the wounds the chain inflicted on his Immortal body reminded him that he was a helpless captive for as long as she wills it.

Now nearly a century and a half he has spent chained and bound by her wards and the chains that held back his rage and she is still no closer to figuring out a means to tame him to her side.

**

**EDWARD**

He watched as distaste flashed briefly over her features but his pleasure was short-lived, as it has been from the first moment he awoke chained to a wall like some macabre living trophy. The only thing that made the insult still all the more was the fact that he was certain he was viewed blatantly as such by his wily captor.

"I thought an eternity bound to this place would have broken that arrogant pride…or at least bent it a little…I see that I have been far too optimistic…"

"An eternity is but a passing second to me. Your contract with those traitorous snakes was for a mere hundred years if I recall correctly and it is about to end sooner than you can blink. Your decrepit hunter's ass must be on fire, praying to whatever idiot god you have that the Council continually ignore my absence. Unfortunately optimism doesn't suit a vile creature like you."

"Vile? Me?" She raised an elegantly sculptured hand and trailed long talons across his exposed chest, murmuring softly as she did so…"Come now…stop trying to flatter my hunter's heart."

Her touch left me like always feeling sullied. Without the bindings of her wards wrapped around his form not even the confining strength of the chains would have allowed him to yield to her grasping hands.

"You don't have a heart and stop deluding yourself into believing that you ever had one. You are a damaged mortal turned by another equally deranged immortal too foolish to know otherwise."

"Damaged? Sire, you wound me so! Some say that I was fairer than most deities those mortals worshipped…even your kind found me Incomparable…"

"My kind feasts on scoundrels and deserters, the sick and the dying, the depraved and those touched by madness. You would trust the words of the Damned if it would pander to your whims…I find no pride in your boast, Witch…only the Undead and the cursed would find salvation in your beauty…All I see is what betrayal is capable of giving to the world to mask its contemptuous scent. In that regard, you and the Volturi are of like minds."

"Yet they all sing of my Beauty still—those Immortal brothers that you disparage so. Does their opinion hold no light for you?"

His lips twisted into a cruel mockery of a grin as fangs were bared in the luminous light, their needle-sharp edge scraping against his cracked lips. His gazer sharpened even more in distaste and disbelief at the witch's chagrin.

"My immortal brothers? Did the years rot your brain more than anything else? Those lying scheming vermin spawned from their mortal shells and thrown into the Savage Garden? They are no brothers of mine and well they should fall for the traps you create for them. If it were not for their lies and betrayal I would not be here. So it would be best if you spare me your poisonous attempts at winning me to your side. There is nothing in this hell you can offer me that would make me spare your life the moment I become free."

As expected the barbs hit true to their target but like all the other times he has fallen to her trap of verbal debates the insult issued from his lips fell short of actually causing her any pain. His cunning captor continued to gaze at him with eyes colder than all those long winter dawns that used to herald the end of the hunt…eyes that even now made the blood in his veins pound with screams held back by the wards she has thoughtfully and thoroughly bound to his immortal shell…

"There is much for us to discuss, my lord. Your confinement--"

"Discuss? Funny…I thought that we're past simple discourse or isn't that the reason I'm currently kept under lock and chain? I would've guessed that discourse is something only a creature of tact and civility possessed. Surely you do not assume to possess such skills?"

"Come now…surely you could understand why I had to do this…I had no other choice…they might simply take you from me and you know I could never let that happen…I couldn't let them take away my most precious treasure."

"You'd think after all this time you would've learned that by now not to speak of such vile words to me. I am not something to take and no matter if you and those treacherous Volturi pinned me to this wall like the head of an animal. I am not yours. Nothing in hell and no amount of time could or would change that."

She lifted a hand and caressed his jaw with jeweled talons that glimmered in the fading light. Had it not been for the scarlet chains wrapped around his neck he would've risked snapping his own neck to avoid her touch. The heat of his gaze gave her pause but she chose to ignore the promise of death within his golden gaze. She is well aware of his hatred but years of being drained left the usual scarlet orbs cleansed of their blood hue. Now they shimmered with the fierce heat of his leashed hate.

"You will heed my words one day, my lord…after all…I am all that you have left…all that remains constant in your world…or have you forgotten that? Your own Immortal family has abandoned you. The outside world offers you no succor or even the merest interest. I am the only one that truly cares for your well-being."

Edward forced himself not to grimace in hatred nor hiss in rage, reigning in the craving in his heart to give vent to his frustration. He raged inside himself and called himself a fool a thousand times once more but he gave away nothing of his contempt, except for the wintry tone of his voice and the wild look in his golden eyes. And yet, even as he kept himself from lunging at her bared neck, his exhausted mind warily accepted her point.

_But I would be Damned a thousand times over before I admit that to her. What she said could be the truth for all I know…or it could've easily been a lie just as well…I have lost count of the passing centuries…unaware of the exact passage of time since I last knew of the waking world concealed behind my enchanted cage…unconscious of the changing eons since I last drew breath perfumed by the essence of freedom._

"I have forgotten nothing Witch…certainly not of your scheming nor of the betrayal you helped perpetrate against me and my Coven. Be proud that you have managed that much. For certain the world outside must have changed. It is inevitable. Just as the vengeance I will exact upon your immortal hide when freedom comes my way. Oh yes, I have indeed, forgotten nothing."

Her lips twisted into a mocking smile and again he had to resist the urge to bare fangs long-denied the pleasure of tearing into vulnerable flesh. Hers would be just as vile as poisoned carcass and yet he hungers for the savageness of the act just the same. And just like a prey taunting a predator that could not spring into death's embrace, she came ever nearer to his side, knowing that all that kept her safe was nothing more than crimson strands stronger than the body he was born with and the barbed chains that drained him of blood and the strength to give vent to the fury burning in his blood.

"I did no such act, my Prince of the Night or has time blurred your memories and made a mockery of your own mind? My lord! I did no betrayal merely performed a service asked by one seated in power. They ask that I provide them a means to penetrate your lair. That was the task. You were the price for that service. to keep you caged like a fierce hunting beast tethered to a jeweled leash. No, that was the choice your own kind made…blame the brethren that gave rise to your being…I am merely collecting payment for services rendered to your proud, ancient lineage."

"I have no need for reassurance from your twisted mind…don't you tire of lying Witch? You do that more often and with more consistency that you do breathing! What need have I for the tales you weave so well? Will it change the fact that I am mounted to your wall like the hide of some hideous beast?"

An adoring smile bloomed on her lips and her eyes sparkled with unholy mirth and amusement.

"Ah…there be my fiery lord…I thought I've lost that spark…it would've been a pity then…" She threaded jeweled talons along the thick mass of the bronze locks, carefully smoothing the silken strands as she murmured softly, making his blood run colder than the waters from a hundred frozen tundra's. He slowed down the beating of his heart if only to prevent himself from breathing in her air, his face frozen in a mask of indifference. "I don't want a broken, tamed, cowering falcon on my arm…I want the savage hunter that strikes fear into the hearts of even the most arrogant immortal…"

He tried to move his head away, sickened as always by the feel of her cold, lifeless limbs touching any part of his body but like a sensitive vise, her fingers clamped around the delicate mane when she felt the most infinitesimal shift in his form. The chains and wards combined kept him immobile, holding his head near as she bent close to my lips. He bit back a suitable reply with barely restrained savagery.

"The moment these wards give out, or I find some way to release myself from these cursed chains I shall give you a first hand demonstration of what a caged hunter does to deserving prey…I promise I would not spill even a single drop of your vile blood."

"I believe you…all the same…I am no fool…no one will come for you. They haven't yet and they never will. You will belong to me for all eternity."

He gave a loud derisive laugh that faintly echoed all around the dark chamber, amplifying the sound of his derision a thousand times over as he tossed bronze locks and pinned her with unblinking golden eyes faintly smoldering with palpable hatred as he began to speak…

"Yours? You're an even bigger fool that I first thought…I will never be yours…I belong to no one…do you understand that? No one, be it Immortal or Damned could lay claim on me…I cannot be claimed… I BELONG TO NO ONE…"

He could see the confusion flash in her eyes momentarily at the strength of his conviction, this show of intensity he hasn't displayed since the first decade of his confinement before calm assurance made her smile and reach for his cheeks once more. Her hands traced the ward that crisscrossed along the sinews of his bleeding arms

"See there? That is my proof of ownership…a proof far stronger than any metal or ward or lock…the chains that bind you to me will never be broken…not as long as the sun rise to herald our kind into inevitable slumber…as long as the essence of another's life gives you breath…you are mine. The sun will never rising…and I will never be fool enough to feed you enough to keep your strength. These chains will keep you weakened…your strength ebbing with each drop."

Eyes glaring balefully at the creeping light, she lifted her hands and he was bathed in the faint rays of approaching light for a moment, illuminating his gaze and allowing it to flare brilliantly like a flame as he felt it once again the familiar, wretched feeling of being trapped once more…

"Savor your pride at my captivity while you can Witch. The time for your death and my vengeance will come soon enough. I will find a way…make no mistake of that…"

Slowly, the light grew and he felt his strength ebb and wither as the chains dug deeper into his yielding flesh, new wounds breaking out on newly-healed skin, his body become laden…each moment becoming heavier with each laborious breath drawn in through a chest that no longer moved in ease…all that remained mobile was his mind and then darkness came and stole over him once more. The Witch took one more look at the bound Prince before turning away to seek her own rest. Before she exited the chamber where he was kept she spoke once more.

"You are mine…if I could have you this way…even if only in this way…you are still mine…I will never let you go…"


	10. Crying Moon

Authors Note: Standard Disclaimers apply. "TWILIGHT" is from the genius of one Ms. Meyer. On that note, this contains quite a leap from its original but I feel that to really streamline the text it was a necessary act that must be done. Hopefully it meets with approval. Many thanks.-kuroren23

* * *

**CRYING MOON  
**

**VICTORIA POV**

I was a huntress born. I find no reason to excuse my nature to the handful that considered themselves my equals or even peers. I studied the dark arts because doing so made my hunt ever more efficient and effective. Claiming a prize—a trophy after the hunt was all that ever mattered to me. Only fools believed in things that could not be laid claim to or acquired through mythic, mortal or immortal means. And I was no fool.

Or so I thought.

I knew my weakness stemmed from the fact that my heart is a covetous one. I desire the things that arouse my interest and it often blinds me to everything but the goal—the prize at the end. I know that even my turning couldn't erase that part of my dark nature. Not even THAT transformation could alter the craving that fired my blood for most of my—even now immortal—life. No, it was a fellow Immortal that awakened the darkest longings inside my blackened soul.

It was the sight of him that fired up the avariciousness in my undead heart. The Fallen Prince. Though he was an exile, for most of our kind, he was still the Destined One, the heir that would rule over them all. He was magnificent and though many of our kind could boast of beauty to rival the gods, his drew the eyes and kept them with nary a spoken word or a heated look. He had the air of a predator around him, one well-aware that no one would be so foolish as to lay out a challenge.

That he was beautiful, powerful and unattainable fired the blood in my veins. I longed for the thrill of hunting and bringing down stronger prey. And certainly barring the Council and their enforcers, the Volturi, no single immortal could rival the bounty on the head of their proud untouchable prince. The temptation of claiming such a fierce predator for my own was a fever that consumed my mind and heated my blood. I had to have to him.

And so I schemed, and waited and planned for a chance to take down the ultimate prize. I was not imprudent enough to think that I could do it on my own. I needed a chance afforded by a much stronger force but I had to ensure that I was pivotal and important enough to demand a very special prize. So when the news of the Volturi's search for the domicile of the exiled prince filtered down into the stews where I sidled with the other fledglings, lying in wait for just this one chance, I knew the time has come.

I worked for the powers that be and schemed to grant access to the prince for the Volturi to use. Whatever plan they had for his throne was of no import to me. I gained my prize, my precious trophy, and that was all that I cared about. I thought, after that night that everything will simply pass on much like they always have. The threat of my ownership was not one I feared for the reason that no one even knew where he was to begin with. No one the wiser would look at someone like me as the likely keeper of the seemingly forgotten and absent prince.

But with everyday that passes the fear inside me grows and the insidious voice in my head mutters just a bit more loudly that soon enough I would be the one decorating a wall and that I would not be so lucky as to survive the wrath he would unleash when he gains his freedom. The shiver that ran up my spine at the mental image mocked me that what comes my way might not be as merciful as I could imagine.

* * *

**EDWARD **

He watched as the flames spluttered and flickered until the worst of the conflagration died down into smoldering embers that reduced the abyss where he was kept into nothing more than heated rocks. He stood still, unmoving but for his unusual, everlasting eyes…they were still wild and feral even as he gazed towards the impressive sight of carnage, silent battered and bleeding from numerous wounds that he accumulated after he laid waste to the soldiers, guards and foolish minions and fledglings all in his fury to reach HER. He decimated the army she prepared to guard from his escape and annihilated on sight every fledgling that came his way.

Now he simply watched as the servants that used to attend and fawn over the witch that lay broken and dying at his feet screaming for their lives as they went into headlong flight, uncaring for the state of their mistress as she choked on the last remaining vestiges of blood left in her mutilated body. Her sunset colored hair now truly red with the blood soaking each and every strand as if she recently bathed in it. Her eyes frozen in a tormented mask of pain and disbelief, the incredulity forever confined within their burgundy depths—unable to comprehend how her prized prisoner gained freedom so quickly.

"H-h-how…?"

"You were a fool to think I would waste all those years cursing the betrayal done to me. No one is so foolish as to spend it not thinking of ways to get out. I only waited long enough to learn who it was that perpetrated my fall."

"B-but..t-to w-wait a-and en-d-dure…a-a-ll t-t-h-a-at p-p-pain…?"

"Pain can teach me nothing new and waiting is in itself a way to spend the interminable years."

"A - a c-century a-and a h-half I h-held you...w-why escape only now?"

"I was waiting for them to find me. A century or two or even more would not have made much of a difference to me. I didn't want to destroy you with my own hands. You're not worth it. But all that bleeding did do me one ounce of good. I remember everything now."

His eyes tracked absently the frantic movements of the fleeing mortals and immortals alike…Fleeing as if the very devil was on their heels...A small spark of dark amusement flashed briefly within his golden eyes and his hands stained and still dripping with blood flexed as he listened to the shrieks of terror. His attention, however was called back with the shout of outrage issuing from the lips of one very affronted blonde wielding a bloodied sword.

"Don't touch me you filthy witch!!"

"K-k-kill m-me…p-p-l-l-e-as-s-e…"

"You dare ask for deliverance from pain? How dare you!"

His gaze swung back to the pile of disfigured body parts that once belonged to the witch that kept him captive. His eyes clinically assessed the damage wrought to the hapless witch after the first few seconds of finally having her secured in front of him. Limbs that used to be arms broken in too many places to ever heal properly, fingers that would never again look the same no matter how well vampiric blood heal wounds. Her collar bone, shoulders, even her clavicle sustained fractures that would require vast amounts of blood to heal. Crushed were the impudent digits of both her hands for the affront of having touched his skin with impunity over the course of his captivity. All the bones in her legs reduced to splinters of calcium and bone matter to the extent that should any mortal find her, her body would resemble one that was run over by a carriage in multiple and vicious successions. The only part of her that remained fairly unscathed was her bloodied face. All that punishment was meted out by the hands of his chosen few. And each and very vicious turn repeated after allowing her time to heal, ensuring that she would once again feel the same pain as they broke all that was healed by the night's fall.

"Rosalie."

"Sire! This impudent trash dares to ask for deliverance from her pain! Dare you to believe that after all that she has done?! After she has kept you captive all this time! Death--!"

"Death would be a blessing she doesn't deserve. Nor would it be a mercy any one of us would be foolish enough to bestow upon her." A tall pale brown-blond haired young man spoke as he methodically secured the crippled limbs with the chains that once were wrapped around another set of limbs. "By night's end she will learn that to ask for death is to ask for the impossible, else she would be asking for all of eternity."

"Sire…"

"You were late…"

"We came as soon as Jasper was able to track all of us down and took time to neutralize everyone that knew of this location."

"Only they are left, I presume."

"Yes, Sire. Only the three of them and this piece of worthless hide that shares the gift of the Night."

"Who else is here tonight?"

"We brought everyone. The little imp was left to care for your Lady-Mother as I know you would have wanted though. But then again I am well aware that you want the two of them as far from a fight as possible. Rosalie just insisted out of sheer stubbornness and you know that when it comes to her and certain matters I am not proof against."

"Thank you Emmett."

The man simply nodded as he lifted the chains and with unbelievable preternatural strength buried each spiked end deep into the solid rock face of the mountain's side. The witch's eyes widen when she realized that with her effective chained to the mountains exposed side, come morning she would be immolated by the sun's light when it reaches its zenith. She opened her lips to issue another blood-curdling scream.

"We shall deal with this—little problem. The imp-pixie asked us to pass along a message to the witch. I'm honor-bound to see it through."

"Do what you must."

* * *

**VICTORIA**

She knew that her screams were falling on deaf ears but everything inside her was rebelling at the idea of simply giving in to death. Fear renewed her strength as she struggled against the man that was methodically staking her to the mountain's side.

"Bastards! Kill me now! Rip my head off rather than allow me this indignity! How could you do this!"

"How dare you say that! You bitch!!!"

Her ears was ringing from the force of the slap delivered by the enraged blonde. For a moment she wondered if she fainted but that blessing was short-lived when she noted that the blonde was actually held back by the dark-haired mountain of a man.

"Rosalie desist!"

"Emmett so help me let me go! This bitch deserves none of your pity! She dares to speak against her punishment when she willfully chained our Prince like some macabre trophy on her wall! She bemoans indignity when she has never given him any!"

"Jasper! Hold her while I finish this!"

The brown-blonde younger man approached and laid a well-scarred hand on Rosalie's shoulder. Instantly the blonde's rage calmed and she stood still beneath his hand. His gaze however never left the witch's face.

"You should be thankful that this was the only punishment meted out to you. Know that if ever you darken our Prince's doorways once more or plot once more against him in anyway, you would face a fate much more terrifying than the thought of immolation or dismemberment could bring."

She gave a mad bark of laughter at the young man that stood in front of her. Tossing her blood-soaked hair, she pursed her lips and spat at the trio.

"Threaten me? You threaten me? I will curse you with my dying breath! Should the sun burn through me I would cast a spell to let you share every bit of my pain you fools!"

Jasper raised his head and pinned the witch with the full fury and intensity of his gaze. Somehow the ranting of the witch died down into incoherent mumblings as she looked deeply into the promise of hell within his gaze."

"Y-you..!"

"Good. You finally understand. Understand this witch and trust its truth. You are better off accepting this punishment rather than seeking vengeance for what you so rightly deserve. Know that it is only because of his orders that we haven't scattered your entrails to the four winds."

"No! No!!!

"Come. Its time for us to leave."

"No! Don't leave me here!!! You can't do this to me!"

* * *

**EDWARD**

His eyes closed for a moment, gathering the strength that coursed through his veins now that he was free once more to bathe in the light of the moon, feeling the ancient blood inside him pulse, singing an ageless song that only a few could hear, empowering the body that many of his own clansmen covet. The very body that the entire Coven sought without regard for cost so long as it fulfilled the task of what pride and ruling of old-men desired. The body that now stands proof against them and their Council.

Slowly, he drew in a lungful of air, savoring the miracle that allowed him such a simple yet poignant feat. Freedom…At that moment the sky opened up and like a benediction from the gods, cleaning water poured from the heavens to start washing away the stains, seemingly, of the of last half century.

He raised his arms towards the open sky and thrust his face into the downpour allowing his lips to part and the cool kiss of the rain to soothe his parched throat. And yet he finds no reason to hasten his actions…instead, he finds every means to delay the moment of completion…to impede upon the passing seconds as they flutter by…ticking and ticking past until the act was done…He lingers over every drop...relishing it...eyes closed tightly…communing with himself…knowing what was given…what was sacrificed to enable him to attain such a gift that mortals, in all their shallowness and frivolity, take for granted. Freedom came to him at such a high cost.

"You should feed more. You ought to be stark raving mad now with starvation and I wouldn't be surprised. You haven't fed in nearly a hundred and fifty years."

Ever so slowly, he lifted ebony lashes, allowing the rapidly fading light of the dying blaze to illuminate his beguiling gift...his golden eyes...eyes that were both blessing and admonition...a mark and curse in one...As entrancing as his bronze-colored hair that drew the eyes of mortals and immortals alike...as unyielding and seductive as the pale, cold flesh that could not, for all the inherent power it wields, generate enough energy for the simple task of producing warmth were …it was always his eyes that drew prey to his side…always those soulful, Fallen eyes that tugged at their imagination and fueled the desire in their veins…releasing their inhibition and wariness…his eyes could seduce the most stalwart of hearts, sway the most frigid of emotions…his eyes could make the devout weep and claim sanctuary within arms that bring nothing but death and still, one look at his eyes and they would come running to his embrace…willing to sacrifice virtue, life, limb, even their immortal souls for one forbidden taste of his lips…one lingering, smoldering gaze cast from beneath his ebony lashes…

Edward turned to look at his unexpected savior. The figure kept a polite distance between them, never once forgetting the rules of etiquette and decorum...ever mindful of what is proper. He stood there, silent and unmoving-- not wanting to alarm the taciturn prince who until mere moments ago was an unwilling prisoner. The wary prince allowed himself a faint smile though it vanished all too quickly. It would seem the night has yet again deemed it fitting to bestow upon him another gift. Though one that he would be only too wary to welcome with open arms.

"I find those words strange coming from your lips Father…"

"No more than finding myself having to remind you."

The Figure came up to him, smelling, curiously enough, like winter itself…cool and faintly sweet… shimmering with the subtle preternatural gleam that only another willful Immortal could recognize...appreciate...and properly love, had he been inclined to give off any such feeling. The figure seemed to emerge from mist and shadows... In time, the specter-like presence has been replaced by something more substantial and resolute.

It was the shock of golden hair that first drew one's eyes. Each strand seemed to gleam like burnished gold in the light of the descending sun. It cascaded into a waterfall of curls that reached nearly to the hips, held back by a single black silk ribbon. The contrast between the shadowy clothes that seek to conceal and the hair that demanded attention was just one of the many contradictions his unexpected interloper brought...

"It has been many years since Father. I wish we could have met under a more auspicious occasion. Certainly I would have preferred not looking a little too worse for wear before you."

The rich midnight blue cloak was lifted by the passing wind, revealing immaculate white silk shirt and a steel colored silk tie framed by an impressively cut black suit. Hands, frail as ivory carved for holy icons peeked from beneath the cuff, nails that topped long tapered fingers gleamed like polished glass as they held in a delicate grip an exquisite lion-headed mist lifted enough to show a face that was not unremarkable in the least...smoothed by the passing years, giving it the impression of marble bestowed living breath. The face and form gave no clear indication of age ...his form could very well be that of a young man barely bloomed yet strangely mature in his manners…his demeanor spoke of a desire and determination to fade into forgetfulness...all except for his shining hair and bejeweled eyes.

"Yes, it has been too many long and sad years, my son. However, no matter how you are attired, the fact that you are safe now and with us, your family, is all that I could be thankful for."

"You have grown wiser still since I saw you last Father."

And so there they stood...silent at first, laden both with preternatural gifts that seemed all at once utterly useless now...unable to breach a short distance...unable to communicate except perhaps with something as paltry as words...They stood unmoving as they have since they last saw one another…across a vast expanse that called to their senses…triggering the memories of searing pain and blood-drenched earth…When the figure finally broke the silence that gripped them both...it was with a voice that seemed to embody the complexity of all human eloquence:

"I try as much as I can to do something with this existence. Tell me Sire, how does if feel to know freedom after all this time?"

"I would appreciate it more if you would not refer to me so Carlisle."

Thick, honey-hued lashes lifted to unveil eyes as uncanny as those possessed by the vampire prince. And while Edward's haunting beauty was well matched with eyes meant to startle and entice...the face and form that Carlisle possessed were aimed to seduce and enthrall… his hair of muted gold falling into waves to frame a face that would rival any created in the glory days of Rome and the Renaissance.

"I am happy to oblige. Although I'm sure that the Council will find something objectionable regarding the fact that their heir prefers to call me 'father' over their stringent protests."

"Like I have ever cared about their preference and their pursuits. You are far more important to me than the whole of their Coven combined. I wish only that I made them know it even more vehemently than I did before."

Carlisle gazed towards the recently destroyed vampires with eyes glimmering with compassion, shaking his head at the waste of lives that now surrounded them until his eyes landed on the bound witch that even now struggled mightily against her captors.

"She was once so beautiful and so full of promise. The Council should have known better than allow her to continue with her interest in the darkest of arts…it consumed her…."

"Aro should have known better than to use her to secure me and gain the throne… They both felt prey to such mortal concerns towards power…he to his lust for power and her to the avarice that polluted her heart. Even now I wonder why she wanted me."

"It is because of what you are rather than who you are, my son. You are a prize and that poor child was raised no better than a hunter trained to gain as much as she could get with as little effort as they could manage on their part. They simply covet."

"Covetousness—why is it so easy to be seduced with all things mortal? Are we all so flawed Carlisle that we would dare anything to satisfy the shallowest of emotions?"

"Sire...there is too much temptation in our way...most of our kind give in because it provides them an illusion of a life." Carlisle murmured softly in a voice that was neither feminine nor masculine, but compelling nonetheless. "But you know better than anyone how we are so very vulnerable against the smallest fraction of humanity left in us… Perhaps that was the reason behind Aro's convictions. He believes that there is something here that tempts your interest and holds sway other than the perfume of another immortals blood..."

He sighed. Noting the flickers of wary interest in Carlisle's amber-colored eyes, he allowed his gaze to wander over the arresting picture that the immortal made. His dusk-colored eyes lingered over the flowing hair that cascaded like a waterfall of sunshine down the straight back, framing what was undeniably a countenance suited for a child of the Heavens.

With a soft, derisive smile gracing his thin lips, he murmured softly,

"Tempted I might be with things that mortals take for granted, but they will never hold sway over my decision…they have forgotten the very thing that makes them tempting in the first place. For now I only wish to regain my strength before I start taking back what belongs to me…"

"Do you have any idea where you would find this elusive treasure that you seek so fervently?"

"No…but I won't let that stop me…I wasted four hundred years hidden from the waking world, not knowing if I'll ever have the chance to rectify the mistakes I have made. This time, I will secure what I have lost with my own hands. And no one and nothing will stand in my way."

A moment later three other shadows joined them. Together they walked away from the sight or carnage until they disappeared into the all-consuming night. Somewhere on the blood-soaked field that witnessed the carnage a lowly mouse skittered along the mountain's side, drawn by smell of fresh blood and decaying flesh. It froze in the act of rummaging when its senses alerted it to the movement a hands-span away but before it could run it was far too late. A bloodied, claw-tipped hand reached out and all that could be heard was the resonating silence and the slow dying beating of a rodent heart.


	11. Book Two: Borrowing Minds

Author's Note: Standard disclaimer applies. The name "Arcane Society" is something from one of my favorite writers Ms. Amanda Quick and I humbly ask her forgiveness for borrowing it. Other than that everything else is a product of my own demented mind. - kuroren23

* * *

**BOOK TWO**

**_Love is a smoke made_**

**_with the fume of sighs._**

**_Being purged,_**

**_a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes._**

**_Being vexed,_**

**_a sea nourished with lovers' tears._**

**_What is it else?_**

**_A madness most discreet,_**

**_a choking gall and a preserving sweet._**

**~ William Shakespeare**

**

* * *

**

_Autumn in the Year 1655_

"_Today I celebrate another decade in my self imposed exile. I have grown used to the isolation that accompanied the choice I have made all those years ago. I cannot say if I am filled with anger or regret for what I have done…a decade, indeed a dozen of them has proven too short to dull the knife's edge on my memories but I am slowly, albeit reluctantly feeling the numbing effects of forgetfulness. Unlike most of my kind who revels in discarding their past once they've turned, I fight viciously for every speck of emotion and memory that seems to drain out of me with every breath._

_There are days when I wonder why I am fighting against forgetting…nights when I wonder at the reason why I should even believe the memories screaming inside my head. But I am nothing if not stubborn. I will NOT let her go…her memories…my memories of her are all that I have left…I refuse to surrender yet another part of her to the control and satisfaction of those despots that dared to rule my existence, thinking that they have any say in the way I should live out the rest of my forsaken existence._

_But gods I miss what I once was…I hunger for the what-might-have-beens and all the things that the Gods took from me that day. I yearn for it with a desire that burns deep inside of me...will I never be free of this crushing loneliness…?"_

**_

* * *

_BELLA, Forks 2004**

I woke with a start. As my blood-shot eyes tried desperately to clear up the last cobwebs of sleep, I turned away from the light reflexively, never really liking the glare of the sun on my face…no…my body, like my own mindset could only find solace in dark, cold nooks and crannies…like some part of me clung to the absence of light because it knew instinctively that what I sought could only be found in the darkness of consuming oblivion.

_**I will NOT let her go…**_

The words echoed over and over in my head...taunting me...reminding me...calling me to the kind of darkness I could never fathom...the self-same darkness that seduces and enthralls me the moment I yield to exhaustion at the end of the day…the darkness that beckons like a well-known lover of old, welcoming me within its embrace even as I wonder warily at the intimacy it offers so freely.

_**my memories of her are all that I have left…**_

I felt the grit in my eyes causing it to water, forcing my blood-shot eyes closed as exhaustion started to lay claim on a body pushed far beyond its limits...And yet, even as I acknowledged the fact that my weary body needed respite desperately, something caused me to open my eyes against the very vocal complaints of my exhausted body, my gaze sharpening automatically until my blurry gaze focused and cleared on the figure of an ancient dagger placed lovingly inside an old glass case; the container far too young for the item it holds prisoner.

_**Will I never be free of this crushing loneliness…?"**_

I sighed, running cold, clammy hands through my matted and unpleasantly knotted hair, knowing that it has been days since I have last seen to my own comfort, lost as I always seem to be amongst the pages that spoke in a tongue older than my own memories, crying out in anguish with pain more real than even my own broken past. No matter how much my logical side dictated that my immersion in my discovery was ruining any chances I have of finding a life and a career, I couldn't stay away from it. I know. I tried. I always end up coming back.

My eyes roamed around what used to be an elegantly appointed suite. By now I cannot even remember when the last time my apartment looked half-way livable let alone decent. At this moment it all but resembles the ruins of an old, dreary library...every square inch covered by scrolls and ancient texts, every surface overflowing with materials that have no definite path...all that it seemed to invoke is a feeling of utter chaos...of haste and consuming eagerness and panic.

_Yeah and all I need is one spark from an outlet I've been too involved to notice and I would be roasted to a crisp with all these kindling around me._

As my waking self slowly adapted to the demands of consciousness, I tried to piece together the latest installation of the uncanny series of dreams that haunted me since I was a child…the faces that started dogging my unconscious hours just days after I turned fifteen. I knew that my dreams had some meaning behind it…just as well as I know that there was no way they could point out to something real…I was all too ready to rationalize that my nightly mental visitors could only come from the depths of my own imagination, brought on by my excessive love for arcane studies and ancient lore.

Running my hands through my disheveled mane one again I tossed aside the mountain of indigo silk blankets that claimed ownership of my bed…padding barefoot across the worn and soft Persian carpet I gingerly pushed aside the thick heavy drapes that blocked out most of the sun's light to open a window. The first brush of mist-ridden winds twined around my heated skin, instantly drawing out a moan from my lips…and as soon as my hand accidentally brushed against the book that caused me many a sleepless night, I heard it.

_I've missed this…_

**Don't you mean, you miss him…?**

_Ugh…not again…_

**What is that suppose to mean?**

_I thought I got rid of you in therapy…_

**Well assume that it was an exercise in futility again…**

_Why the hell did I waste all that money then…_

**Call it good mercantilism**

_I'm not a commodity…_

**Neither is your sanity but you paid a two-bit hack to tell you a load of psychobabble that YOU actually thought would help…**

_Don't start with me…_

**I didn't….you're the one moaning out there.**

_I just said I missed the wind…you're the one that mentioned a random him again…_

**I was just voicing out my thoughts…**

_Go away…_

**Like I could…why won't you just accept it…**

_Because it's not real! It can't be real! I refuse to believe what you're telling me…_

**You will …soon…**

I rubbed my fingertips against my temple. These conversations with myself started at the same time as the diary. It was as if another me woke up after I started reading it and it was a part that was ironic, mouthy and fearless. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the diary and settled once more on one of the aged armchairs that were in my room...hoping against hope that this time I could simply read not be drawn it...that this time I would keep even a semblance of my own thoughts rather than fall prey to the spell of a world that's not my own...

* * *

_It was not always thus…_

_I could still recall times when I fitted in…when the world made sense and I still belonged amongst the ordinary mediocre folks that populate the world. Well as far as an ordinary someone who prefers everything medieval, molding and in ruins._

_My name is Isabella Marie Swan…yes I know…what an utterly archaic choice for a child of the twenty-first century. If I had the ability I would've told my parents the same thing but newborns never had much choice in names, consciousness doesn't come into being until its much too late and never more so than for someone like me. I could've told them that my name doesn't inspire much when you're not born with pale blonde hair and baby blue eyes that fairly screams "save me, I'm helpless and female!!" The fact that no one remembers to call me "Bella" instead of the more-maligned "Hells-Bells" while a kid is not really the most reassuring thought to bear when one is growing up…grown ups relish the idea of having to say Isabella and their kids relish the rhyme._

_I have no claim to fame…no unique gift of talent or intelligence to be proud of and even now I nothing of merit to boast with. I am a researcher for an old and totally obscure gallery. That is to say I am its general factotum: I do the research that falls under the grey area of real scholastic work. I handle art when I am free, I trace genealogies that would gain no interest other than financial and through it all I found myself content. You could say I have found my niche in life. I was happy, I had a job that interests me and I finally managed to gain a semblance of normalcy…that is…until I found an old diary…_

_The diary was hand-written, crumbling and so fragile that rough handling would've reduced it to a pile of worthless dust… and it was buried under what seemed to be a ton of more impressive looking tomes…it would've continued to languish in utter desolation if not for my complete and utter clumsiness…wounding myself on the protruding end of the book's spine…the seemingly harmless bookend turning out to be an ancient dagger concealed within the books spine and revealed only by the worn ends…_

_I could not recall when I first started forgetting that there was worlds beyond the doors of my secluded domain...I only know that I woke up one day haunted by thoughts that were not my own with faces and names whirling inside my brain like a broken down record that didn't know what else to play. And yet consumed by it all the same...more certain of the truth that I could no longer deny what I feel than I could be any other thought in me. I closed myself in, cognizant of my own folly and still unable to do anything except move forward, knowing that there is nothing for me to go back to, nothing left for me to do but to continue on. And so I struggled to create a semblance of normalcy within my enclosed enclave. I sought work and the steadying companionship of those that were aware of my limitations and my tendency to "lose myself" for days on end. There are some days when I can actually convince myself that this was a rewarding, contended existence. On most days I fail but I have learned to persevere._

_And yet, deep in the very recesses of my mind I pray the nightmares to end...for sanity to regain my tortured mind and battered body...for me to know once more the sweet perfume of freedom...You could say I literally fell into this waking nightmare…and I have yet to find a way out...what scares me more is the fact that I am really one-hundred percent sure that a significant part of me doesn't want to._

_

* * *

_**The Arcane Society Museum, Present Day 2007**

**BELLA**

She stared at the impressive Rococo-inspired dome ceiling of the museum for what seemed like an interminable time and wondered if there will ever come a day when she would not fall prey to her very nature…when the call of things ancient and long-forgotten would not seek her out and threaten to end her questionable sanity. She sighed and gave her self the usual pep-talk she saves for just these kinds of situations.

"You like this life. You want this life. You made the choices in your life. It's been three years. Remember what we agreed upon. We live one day at a time. Now stop whining and just go do your job."

"Excellent advice. Especially since if you stay here any longer people would start to notice that you're talking to yourself and that couldn't possibly be good for both our careers. But that was like asking the sun not to shine or the rain not to fall during storms…you can no more wish to end your attachments to things that never seemed to be real than I could end my own life…And yet here you are wishing all the same…doesn't that just scream pathetic to you little girl?" came the playful masculine voice from somewhere behind her. Bella turned and smirked at the roguish young man that stood just a few feet from where she was. Dressed in a deep reddish brown turtleneck and long coat, his bright eyes and boyish grin seemed out of place amidst the dark and gothic-inspired building. She gave a little laugh before admonishing him.

"I told you I don't need your opinion Jacob Black…and what in the world are you doing here anyway?"

"Well I can assure you it's not for lack of trying to be somewhere else. And the philosophical sound bite is free so you might as well use it for something. The really disturbing fact you might not yet know is that I actually work here. Isn't that just the pits? The good news is that like you I do occasionally wonder at my own sanity and choice of being here."

With an amused snort Bella turned and walked towards the cavernous library that housed the gallery's collection will the clearly reluctant Jacob Black in tow. Though the museum itself was hardly on the top of the list for notable authorities when it came to the subject of antiquities, the contents of their restricted collection was undeniably valuable to the many scholars and academics that couldn't gain access to the more well-known museums and art houses.

"How can you say such a thing! I owe this place a lot! No one else would hire someone like me."muttering as she struggled with her cloak. She snorted at the sound of Jacob's amused tittering as he reached out to untangle her from the voluminous folds of her coat.

"On please Bells, only you would be thankful for this place…if it were left to me I'd actually do something to improve the traffic flow instead of being snobbishly obstinate about serving only the pseudo-intellectual clientele." Jacob muttered under his breath as he swiped at an imaginary speck of dust. Bella gave him a wistful smile as she trailed her hands along the cool marble pillars that lined the inner hallways.

"It gives me what I need….what I crave for more than fresh air or food…"

Jacob gave her an incredulous look before staring at the pillar she touched with such a tender hand. "And what would that be? Asthma induced by too much dust-mold? Your own culture of previously unknown book worm?"

"Jacob!"

"Seriously pet, there is more to life than rotting books and moldy academics that for all intents and purpose should be in a museum themselves. Sure it keeps the sun out of your flawless skin but other than the bargain you save from sun block what else is there?"

"I know no other life but this…"

You've never even tried…you lock yourself here ever since that--!"

"Jake—no, don't even go there ok? It's over between Mike and me…he made his choice and—well…he was right for the most part, wasn't he? I was—am weird."

Jacob gave her an incredulous look before snorting derisively, "That's the problem with men who're afraid of women with higher IQ. What an idiot."

"Never mind that now. You should go and see the Director about that lupine collection they're planning for the Naturalist Section."

"Seriously, who in their right minds would study lupine culture?" he asked irritably as he gathered his coat and marched into an adjacent hall calling out as he did, "See me before you leave alright. I have to make sure you get to eat something you workaholic."

"Sure. See you later brat."

She opened a huge pair of heavy oak doors, she paused at the threshold as her custom, bracing herself against the wave of feeling that assails her whenever she enters old building or holds artifacts of antiquity with her bare hands. As she took a deep bracing breath, she entered the cavernous room, hanging her coat on nearby hook before beginning the process of putting the library to rights after a busy day of use from its many patrons.

A dark, sensual phantom laugh echoed in her ears, causing goose bumps to erupt on her skin. With a resigned sigh, she gave herself a mental shake and started her usual, albeit eerie internal conversation.

**Having fun with the little wolf?**

_I told you not to poke fun at my friends. It's unseemly._

**I have been nothing but an exemplary companion.**

_You should know by now that you're the reason I became like this._

**I never thought you'd be so receptive to my voice…**

"How could I not be…" she muttered darkly, thankful that no one was around to hear her. Sometimes, she just had to voice out her own thoughts to keep it separate from the ones inside her head. So used was she to this bizarre arrangement that she found herself muttering aloud at times, uncaring and for the most part, unaware for the curious stares she was garnering from those that came her way. She crouched low on the floor and decided to settle in more comfortably as she noticed that there where many books placed willy-nilly onto the shelves. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. _Fuzzy-brained academics..._

**That a complaint or an endearment? With you I never can tell.**

_Get a life…_

**I have one…this one…**

_This one is mine…you're a freeloading, stubborn, mule-headed--!_

**Hello to you too. I'm not going anywhere…whether or not you want me here, there's nothing you can do about it so we're having this discussion where no one could hear you or we'll do it there where people would stare…**

_They're already staring at me…they've always stared…I'm used to it…_

**You're the boss.**

_Hah! If only that was true!_

**See that? You're learning sarcasm…that's something else you should be thankful for…I'm giving you a lot of things…**

_Migraine for one…and then there's the insomnia that doctors couldn't cure...the ulcer I think you gave me before the first week was over….shall I go on?_

**You're a really picky little girl aren't you?**

_And you're a troublemaking shrew…_

Shaking her head in resignation, she stacked the books neatly and arranged them in their proper shelves. Standing up, she dusted the hem of her tweed skirt, gave the area another glance before walking out of the library. She headed for the anthropology wing when a cool gravely voice spoke from the shadows.

"Running a bit late now, aren't you, Mademoiselle Isabella…?"

She gave a startled yelp before a becoming blush painted her cheeks as her eyes met those of the resident curator and director of the museum. Hastily, she bowed and offered him a warm smile.

"Monsieur Adenauer…good evening…" she murmured politely. The old man gave her a bright wink and waited for her response. Flushing, she looked down guilty at her scuffed boots and felt an inexplicable urge to sink into the floor.

"Ah- no, sir…I was just in the library and I—well, that is to say…"

**Way to impress the old fart little girl…**

_SHUT UP!! Why can't you just keep your opinions to yourself?!_

**What…you're not doing really well on your own…**

_This man is my BOSS!_

**I know…regrettable isn't it?**

_Shut it please! I need to think!_

"You seem rather distracted child. Is anything the matter?"

_Only with the voice inside my head sir…it just won't shut up._

**Hey!**

She shook her head quickly and nervously stuffed her hands inside the coat pockets of her ebony cashmere jacket.

"I apologize Director…my mind was elsewhere…I was sorting through the shelves in the restricted area…there were many titles that were improperly placed…"

The old man gave a nod. "Ah…well. Try not to stay up too late…the streets could be quite dangerous during these hours."

"I plan on heading on home when there is more light sir…I'm sure there are plenty of things that could occupy my time then."

"Indeed…" The director gave her another assessing look before nodding again and walking away, muttering absently as he went, "Goodnight then Mademoiselle Swan…"

"Goodnight to you too, Director Adenauer…."

As the old, slightly stooped figure of the curator faded from her view, she began her trek up the stairs towards the tower that housed the more note-worthy collections of the museum. It was one of her many tasks to restore and repair the damaged artifacts that their resident "grave-robbers" unearthed every so often. This time around, the item on her "operating table" was an intricately carved and jewel-encrusted frame and a ragged 'dirt-ridden' portrait. The strained and tattered canvas has already been removed for cleaning and placed on a separate table, waiting for her to begin her magic.

**Magic huh…? Interesting choice of words…**

_It's a figure of speech…don't take it that way…_

**How would you like me to take it…**

_Knowing you...I think its best if I stay quiet...you have a nasty habit of turning harmless thoughts into something that could bite me..._

**What a wimp...you're no fun...**

_You ain't exactly a barrel of laughs either_

**Wuss...**

_NAG._


	12. Through her eyes

* * *

Authors Note: Standard Disclaimer applies. As always, I am just the nerd that uses the genius that is Ms. Meyer. The insanity in this piece is entirely my own. Hopefully weaving together the loose ends in my own writing would help me unravel the rest. I am very hopeful--er--right now can't think of any word except that. Please enjoy. Comments are the lifeblood for us painfully insecure writers. Seriously.

* * *

**Through Her Eyes**

**BELLA  
**

She leaned back against the door as the pneumatic locks whirled into life behind her. The room was sparse, almost box-like in its proportions but Bella would probably the last one to notice this particular detail. In her mind, the space, while not as magnificent as the libraries and galleries, was enough. It contained a desk, a filing cabinet and the odds and ends that were necessary tools in her trade as a restoration expert. It also had in its favor three very important points—first, it had full spectrum lighting made available at the touch of her fingertips; second, it had a large 'operating' table that swivels and dips when she needs it to and final and most important point is that the room offers her a safe haven from the insanity that goes on outside her door on a daily basis.

Cool, antiseptic air caressed her skin with the familiarity of an old friend and while she gave a slight shiver due to the change of temperature, she no longer paid any mind to the goose bumps that erupted on her skin. The cold, like the sterile air within the closed chamber, is as familiar to her as her own body. She treasures the room for more than its sterile characteristics.

_Here, in this place I hold dominion. I am normal here. I am myself and I need not answer to anyone._

Taking a deep breath, she moved away from the icy feel of the steel doors and moved towards the table that now holds her newest assignment. Bella was about to open the sealed display case when a familiar albeit out of place fragrance wafted towards her. Turning, her eyes widened when she saw a tall exquisite vase filled with a heavy bunch of delicate white sterling roses. The sight of those blooms caused her heart rate to rise even as she wonders anew who keeps leaving her such expensive and unusual tributes.

_No one in this gallery would be insane enough to spend money on flowers. They'd sooner woo me with scrolls from the Dead Sea. Who in the world keeps sending me flowers?_

She took a few steps toward the blooms and touched one delicate petal with her fingertips, delighting in its satin-like feel.

"What are you doing…?"

A haughty voice spoke from somewhere behind her. Suppressing the urge to sigh in irritation, she ignored the disturbing presence that lurked like an overly curious canine around her work area.

"What do you think I'm doing Jacob? More to the point what are you doing here? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I don't know. Guarding you seems to be half my job and the other is keeping my sanity."

"You should have taken my advice and stuck with being a stand up comedian. That or be some kind of technician that only deals with machines. That way no one alive needs to be subjected to that loony logic of yours."

"Yeah well at least I don't deal with dead things, old things and crumbling things that makes me nervous." he muttered, leveling her with a look that made her think that he saw more than the tell-tale trembling in her fingers. "I thought you liked this job…I never though I'd live to see the day you'd find things that actually make you hesitate."

She gave out a sigh, wishing all the same that her friend wouldn't ask too many questions that hit too closely to what she was really feeling. She cast a look at the awaiting frame and canvas on her table and resisted the urge to muss up her already precarious coiffure.

"I know what I said…but you can't always like everything in the world…"

Jacob gave a disbelieving harrumph before muttering, "So am I to assume that this is the part you hate? Unpacking crates?" Bella popped him on the arm before turning back to her table.

"Not that, you smart-ass. It's dealing with the unknown part that unsettles me the most…sometimes I don't know if I really want to be around so many things that call to me in _**that**_ way."

"Why…? I would've assumed you'd have developed immunity if not outright affinity for the rubbish that passes for treasures in this place…"

"If I've never held it before, there's always the possibility that something might happen…" she murmured softly, eyes clouded by memories of other times when her nature took precedence over normalcy. Jacob's exasperated tirade died on his lips and his gaze sharpened as he asked.

"Something…? Like what, pray tell?"

"Oh I don't know…last time I touched something interesting—I fainted and woke up with a voice in my head."

Squaring her shoulders, she reached into one of those paper boxes that always seemed to be scattered all around her and she pulled out a pair of white gloves. The material of the fabric stretched to accommodate the shape of her small hands, the thin, and transparent skin-like cloth enveloping each candle-shaped digit within their androgynous depth, sealing within the essence of her touch, keeping the sensitive pads of her fingertips from coming into contact with the surface of the article that needs her expertise.

"What do you mean you fainted?!" Jacob nearly shouted but the small smile playing on her lips caused the roar to die prematurely on his throat. "And what's with this voice inside your head? You mean an actual voice different from your own?"

Bella snorted as her ears rang from the shout echoing inside her tiny room and thought that she should've just kept her mouth shut. Jacob was as close as family to her as her own — closer than the bonds of blood, for sure—but he could get a little carried away about the oddest things. "Something like that. Or you could say it's like a mouthier version of me."

"And the voice that you just mentioned?"

"It wasn't anything serious okay? It's like my subconscious suddenly woke up and decided to sit up and talk. The fainting spell was a one-time thing though. It never happened before or since. There are times when I find a memory trapped within the nuances of the item…or a presence that lingers…"

"And you only told me now!?"

"Why do you think that is? Oh wait? Is it because I knew you'd get mental about it and question me like I was part of the Spanish Inquisition?" she teased. A pointed look from Jacob made her smile even more. "Forget about it Jacob. The voice might just be my inner self asserting itself."

"I don't know if I should really believe you and just shrug it off…you've never really explained how you ended up in here."

"And you're surprisingly reticent…you've never ventured to ask…not once…not after all this time…" She looked at her old friends face closely and asked the question that's been nagging at here all these months. "Why didn't you ask then Jacob? Why didn't you ask when I walked out my engagement with Mike and left everything behind to bury myself in this forgotten place?"

"It wasn't my place to ask…" he replied succinctly and his words eased some of the anxiety that welled inside her. "But don't think that I would be all dense and sensitive around you much."

"I'm not that much of a dreamer. I wont hold my breath and think this would be the last time you'll give me a grilling."

"Good. Because I intend to start now."

"Huh?"

"Who in the name of Hell's gate sent you the indoor garden? Some florist you bored to death with an account of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?"

Bella blinked and then gave out a surprised laugh that bubbled out her like an effervescent song.

"Oh bless be the gods Jacob Black! Did you just mention Babylon in the same breath as your usual tirade?"

"Oh please. Don't give me that intellectual snobbery of yours."

"Pooh! You never allow me any fun."

"Just spit it out Bells."

"I don't know."

"You—what?!"

"I don't know who sends them. I tried asking the security people, the cleaning crew, the secretaries, technicians and even the grad students and no one knows anything or seen any one."

"Oh that is just so like you. A phantom that brings flowers. I am telling you right now Bells, if a mummy or a cursed ghoul decides to court your sorry ass, don't involve me ok?"

"Duly noted. Won't bother you if I marry mummy or ghoul. Got it."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Not anymore and not more than necessary."she mumbled distractedly. She touched one of the many blinking knobs on the console beside her, and Jacob saw almost immediately what it was that held her attention and commanded her reluctant awe. The painting was a massive thing…standing upright, even without the glare and reflection of glass that should've accompanied it the frame alone would've towered over her…it was monstrous, nearly eight feet in height and two meters across, it dwarfed all that stood before it and Bella was no exemption. Jacob gave a surprisingly clear wolf whistle, walking around the frame.

"My, my…this is certainly a surprise…"

"Hmmm…? What do you mean Jacob? Isn't it magnificent?" she asked, her voice evidently excited.

"This portrait…whatever was framed by this thing is either the possession of an extremely vain woman or a narcissistic bastard, take your pick…"

"Can't it be an old motherly lady with a very big house?"

"That accommodates this monolith?" he scoffed. "Give me one good use a doddering old bag of bones would have for such a thing? Unless this actually is a portrait and is the sole proof that she was once beautiful—then I'd accept the old lady theory."

"Zip it. Shut up and don't touch anything."

"You never let me have any fun."

She hit him on the shoulders companionably before stepping closer to the now empty frame. Reluctantly she stepped closer to the weathered frame, her hands hovering a mere hairsbreadth away from the aged wood…hesitant to smooth the dark, grainy surface beneath her hand as if such an act would be tantamount to sacrilege…her gaze trailed along the intricately rendered carving of wild leafy vines and twining roses…her eyes clouded, becoming hazy…the look within them impassioned as her delicate fingertips brushed against the surprising presence of a woman coiled around the blade of an impressive looking saber that made up one entire side of the frame and its crown, the arch that would've no doubt brushed against the ceiling of any modest dwelling was made up of a pair of unfurled, outstretched wings.

"Wings…he has wings…"

"That's one mighty looking chicken Bells."

Each feather was clearly defined, as if the artist found it necessary to breathe in life to such an obvious object of mythical beauty…Her eyes never wavered from their intense scrutiny of the elaborate decorations that covered every square inch of the obviously ancient and beautifully preserved ebony frame. Her smile was soft, reminiscent…reflective of the awareness that still runs hotly in her frail form…her voice reverent as she whispered…

"Amazing…how can this be…? Why such a theme…heaven and hell entwined in such a way that one can not be complete without the other…what genius created such a thing…?"

Jacob's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at the frame once more and realized too late what it was about the design that nagged at him. Feeling ire rise with his every breath; he soon felt the tell-tale sign of his wrath unfolding as he clenched his hands into tight fists.

"Genius? You have got to be joking--only someone who is mad could create such a monstrous image of a living nightmare…this is no image of heaven…this is punishment…vile but true…this is a lasting visage of a truth known and realized far too late to ever be rectified…look beyond your dreamy archetypes and romantic notions, pet. Look closely whose hand holds that sword." He snarled in disgust. He know that the fierceness of his response was surprising to Bella but something about the face of the woman carved in ebony called forth all his darker emotions.

"Jacob—?"

"Look at it Bella! Look at the figure of that woman and that angel that so entranced you! She isn't holding that sword! He's running it through her!"

"Jacob stop!"

Jacob winced…biting back the dark, bitter torrent of resentment and anger that threatened to burst forth. He waited…painfully aware of his loss of control and unable to think of any candid remark that might diminish the obviously black memories that he allowed himself to fall prey to.

"Bells, look I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have flown off the handle like that but there's something about that thing that I don't like okay? I'm not out to insult you or anything--!"

Only silence greeted his apology. There was no awkward pause…no telling silence that would've deafened him as surely as a scream would've done…instead there was only silence…echoing…consummate…consuming but silence nonetheless. He opened eyes he wasn't aware he had closed. He was careful not to look up at her directly, painfully aware that they have yet to return to their usual placid look. They were intense and dangerous and though Bella has never seen them quite like they are now, she was keen enough to feel the difference in his gaze.

"Bella? Hey…is something wrong?"

To his everlasting surprise her eyes has yet to stray from her contemplation of the craved frame, her breathing calm and even…it was almost as if she never heard a word of the dark musings he have uttered or the apology that hastily followed.

_Not heard…? But how is that possible…_

Confused, he stared at her eyes and noted the frozen look in them…it was then that he realized that something was very wrong. Bella wasn't only quiet. She stood there as if frozen, her eyes empty of expression. Jacob swore aloud before flipping open his phone and dialing a familiar number.

_Hell and damn. Now what…_

_

* * *

**Bella's POV**_

_The air inside the restoration room was unexpectedly cool. Actually, it bordered on freezing…one would assume that a slight chill was to expected; they were after all handing rare finds but as she stood there Bella could actually feel the air growing colder. She was about to ask Jacob to check on the thermostat when her eyes caught the faintest shade of gold from the torn canvas that was propped up directly in line with the fame that used to hold it._

_Her gaze remained locked on what appeared to be nothing more than a faint yellow spot on a tattered canvas and yet her eyes saw something else…someone else…it was the figure of a man standing in front of her…his face hidden in shadows but for his eyes…his glittering…unearthly eyes…_

_Gold…amber…topaz…sunlight captured in an orb that should not exist…Bella felt her heartbeat thrum faster, felt it falter before it came to a complete stop…making her breath freeze in her chest and her heart clench painfully…_

_It was then that she felt it—slight brushes against her skin—paltry sweep of air across her cheeks…phantom caresses that trailed from her check to her chin, urging her to tilt her head back until the cool kiss brushed along her lips…and with it the familiar voice that echoed in her head and haunted her dreams whispering longingly…_

…_**Finally…you're here…Bella…**_

_**

* * *

**_

**JACOB  
**

Jacob gripped the phone with bruising strength that nearly dented the lightweight material. There were few things in the world that he hesitated in doing but this phone call was clearly one of them. He must have cursed a million times before he could actually force himself to pick up the phone. Thirty more times before he managed to make himself push the buttons. He pushed the necessary digits the moment he noted the empty look in Bella's eyes and as he waited for a voice to speak on the other end of the line, his tension grew. He nearly dropped the phone when he heard the tell-tale click and the device came alive in his hand. A lilting, deceptively sweet voice spoke.

"Antiquarian Finery, Arcane Society department for period piece clothing and textiles. This is Alice speaking. I am a bit busy now so if you will--!"

Jacob cut through the polite words with his usual bluntness.

"This isn't a social call—it's me. Get your ass here."

The speaker on the other line quickly lost whatever warmth was projected in her voice. Her next words clearly dripped ice making Jacob wondered if the phone he was clutching was bout to freeze on him.

"Is there a reason you're calling me?"

"Something came up. Why else would I bother with you?"

"I don't doubt it—humanity would have been on the brink of extinction and you'd still pussy-foot before dialing my number. Which I am shocked to know, you actually have on speed-dial. Why is that Jacob?"

"Don't know and don't care. Something happened to Bella."

"Oh? And where is the little darling?"

"Where do you think?"

"Where else indeed but in that dreary ruin she calls an office…what was she working on this time?"

"An old painting…"

"Old Masters are such a pain to work with…" she purred thoroughly ignoring the answering growl from his throat.

"The artists unknown as far as I can tell—portrait—not that its anyone famous. The frame's a real something though…if I would bet, I'd say that's the one that triggered her condition."

"Oh? Is that your expert opinion Mr. Black?"

"Stop jerking my chain and just come here!"

"What about the frame Jacob?"

"You can see that when you come here!! Bella's not responding to anything. I just raised the fire alarm and her breath hardly hitched. Nothing's reaching her."

"The frame—"

"Get your ass in here you skinny cow or I'll haul it out of whatever sanctimonious lecture you've landed yourself in. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Temper…I'm on my way. Make sure no one sees her like that…"

"Do I look like an idiot to you?"

"I don't know how you look now do I? And honestly, some people have no accounting for taste with regards to the company they keep or their perception of beauty."

"You--!"

Before he could utter a few choice invectives the line went dead. With an exhausted sigh he gazed at the phone for a few minutes more before closing it and stuffing it inside his pocket. He stared at his friends pale face once more and wondered how to best explain to the force of nature that was on her way why their mutual friend was locked in a trance that nothing seemed to penetrate.

* * *

_**Bella's POV**_

_I was in the midst of a sensual storm…the lips that brush against mine were feverish…insistent…demanding…as if it had every right…as if it knew that the claim was returned…acknowledged in full measure…unassailable as only a rightful claim could be...my entire body wrapped in an embrace that fairly shouted at desperation and passion held so long in check…she tried to find it in her to be afraid but all she could feel was an overwhelming wave of loneliness and longing…the questions tumbled from her lips even when she wasn't certain that she was uttering the words aloud…_

_"Who are you…? Why are you—please…! Why do I feel like I should know you…?"_

_I felt my fingers--trembling--touch the warmed surface of his hands…the only part of him, other than his eyes, that's visible in the enveloping darkness...hoping as if against the logic of hope to find some trace of further warmth...some lingering remnant of the man whose lips dared to steal my innocence...claiming lips that have yet to know the touch of another…until him…_

…_**Forgive me…I couldn't resist…I promise…soon…I will come for you…soon we will be together--…**_

_"But I don't even know who you are…! Who are you?"_

_**I'm someone that you once knew…a long time ago…**_

_"If I knew you, then tell me your name. How did I know you? Please…!"_

_**Patience, my little love. Did you like the flowers?**_

_"Flowers? Did you send them? Are you real then?"_

_**As real as you are little one.**_

_"You can't be real. I don't know anyone with eyes like yours. I would know, I have been looking for a pair like those for years."_

_**Just as I have been looking for you. But trust me, I am real Bella.**_

_"Trust you? I'm a scholar. We're the patron saints of skepticism."_

_**You are as amusing and refreshing as ever Bella.**_

_"Enough blather, when will I really see you?"_

…_**Soon Bella…I promise…soon…**_

_I felt him withdraw…I felt his presence move away from my embrace… and as I scrambled to hold on to the last vestiges of him I felt ice-cold talons take a hold of my wrist in a fierce grasp and start pulling me through the thick, murky darkness from whence I came._

_

* * *

_

**BELLA**

"Had a nice dream?"

A quick glance and a sharp intake of breath was all that was needed and the spell of the dark caves broke. I suddenly found myself staring into a pair on intense honey-colored eyes. The voice that spoke had the subtle chill of a thousand moons and it was just as deafening in its hushed tones.

"Mademoiselle Cullen!"

A smirk was immediately painted across thin, blood-tinted lips. Slowly, as if the very shadows from whence she stood refused to let her go, a small, child-like creature emerged. Careful, measured tread brought her closer to the light but the illumination proved anything but reassuring. Beneath the clear spectrum of the restoration room, her jet-black hair was deeper than a moonless night…shrouding a body so pale it was almost doll-like. When she parted crimson lips, words flowed out like a river of frozen flames.

"What did I tell you about that name,hmmm?"

I gulped and almost winced at the tell-tale action. Few people could rattle my nerves but none more so than this tiny, elf-like apparition. Mustering my resolve, I tried to open my lips to speak once more, uttering the familiar response to the familiar reprimand and yet my body refused even the simplest command. Somehow, my senses were still reeling—trapped by the last vestiges of my unusual encounter. Taking a grateful draw of breath I tried once more.

"I didn't see you come in Alice..."

"You wouldn't...you were too preoccupied with that thoroughly interesting dream I suppose. But then again—with the kind of company you're currently keeping, I wouldn't mind dreaming myself."

"Keep your catty comments to yourself you little witch."

Alice leveled a look at Jacob who moved away from the wall where he was leaning against to stand next to me.

"You alright pet?" he asked gruffly as he ruffled my hair and touched my cheeks. The warmth of his hands was shocking…making me aware suddenly of how cold my skin felt. "Your skin feels like ice!"

I tried to focus on Jacob's words but all that I felt was a sharp stab of loss. Bewildered at the gamut of emotions crashing through me, I mumbled weakly,

"I-it must be the room…I remember feeling the room grow cold—what happened to me?"

"You just sort of froze—if you don't mind, that's also something I'd like to understand. I only remembered that you told me to call this witch if something odd happens to you. And believe me; watching you imitate a petrified doll isn't something I'd like to see again."

"I am sorry Jacob…I don't know what happened either…" I cast a look at the only person, other than Jacob that I trusted in the whole world and waited for her to speak. Another smirk came and went. Alice stalked the length on the room before settling, rightly so, on an elegant, wing-backed Queen Anne armchair. Crossing her legs, she propped her chin on the palm of one hand all the while keeping her predatory eyes trained steadily on my face. A smile that could only be called evil slashed across her lips before murmuring in a voice that haunts me still...

"I would explain…but first would you care to tell me what that's all about?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. It was Jacob that answered the question hovering on my tongue.

"You were saying something but we couldn't hear what it was…but it sure looked like you were talking to someone."

"It was just a dream...just a d-dream..."

"Some dream..." Alice murmured enigmatically, her gaze moving between my pallid face to the tattered canvas behind me.

* * *

**Edward's POV  
**

_I couldn't help my lips from twitching in amusement at her latest comment. She really was as feisty and impetuous as a precocious child and yet there was an ageless quality about her that called to me on so many levels…the naiveté coupled by an almost mystical sense of timelessness that drew me in as surely as powerfully cast spell…and just like a spell I could no more sever the ties that bind us than I could free myself from the enchantment that has held me in thrall for centuries…_

_**"You can't be real. I don't know anyone with eyes like yours. I would know, I have been looking for a pair like those for years."**_

_I closed my eyes and forced myself to focus on her image. Though I have spent year wishing with all my might that I could be blessed enough to see through her eyes, I settled for the next best thing. I could only see her when the willful Fates allow me such pleasure. I imagined as she centered herself, strengthening her resolve for the task ahead, as if it was something potentially dangerous and life-threatening…and perhaps, for her it was…there's still a lot of things about her I couldn't fully explain or unravel…but that was neither here nor there…for now…it's enough that I have her with me…that thought alone soothed the restlessness that has plagued my world for so long._

_Would that I could prove to you that I am real my little love, I would not hesitate to trade my soul for it._

_I pictured her in my mind, moving carefully…sensuously…as she raised her hands to gather the thick, heavy mass of dark brown locks that flowed almost to her waist, sweeping and twisting the long coil of her mane into a practical knot at the back of her head, carefully not to snag or tear a single strand... anchoring the entire thing with a slim ebony hair pick. Satisfied, she moved closer to the console that held the museum's newly-acquired treasure._

_She drew her breath in, gentle and controlled, before releasing it in a soft, steady stream of air…placing one hand over her chest as if to force her own heart to calm its erratic beating…the move stirred something in me but like always I controlled the mad urge…the compelling impulse to cross the last boundaries that set us apart…it was not my place...and it was not yet the right time for me to make my claim known…much as I desire to bridge the paltry distance between us, now is not yet the time… I could wait a few more days…a few more moments…time is irrelevant…for now it is enough that I could hold on to some part of her…_

_Someone was coming…I felt the disturbance in the air as a new consciousness intruded upon our intimate interlude. Reluctantly, I eased off the strength of our bond…there will be other moments when I can be alone with her._

_

* * *

_He knows that Emmett was staring at his moody face trying to decipher the cause for the scowl that is he currently sporting but that was neither here nor there. He has long past reached the limit where he cared for what others say or do around him. A few centuries of ignoring the rule of the all powerful-Coven has not weakened his resolve. Indeed it has only made his aloofness and reserve even more pronounced. For him all manner of time keeping was irrelevant…moot point for someone who had eternity to contemplate what life—indeed immortal life had to offer.

"Tell me you didn't do something odd…" Emmett's voice, despite his large physique, could be the softest and gentlest sound one could possible hear, especially when one has grown weary of telling silences. He is also one of those few that know what tact means and applies it on situations that call for such.

"I didn't do something odd…" came the obedient reply.

"Edward…what did you do…?"

"Nothing that I shouldn't have done all those years ago…"

"The guards said you walked out of a council meeting and just locked yourself in a room. The entire floor plunged into subzero temperature and the only time that happens is when you—"

"The council has no say in what I do in the moments that curiosity consumes me."

"But--!"

"But nothing…Emmett…you can ask of me anything—so long as it is in my power to give—I will give you my throne, even this immortal shell—but what I share with her is mine to do as I please…" Edward gave a weary sigh and slumped further into the embrace of the ornate Victorian fainting couch where he lounged like an elegant mountain cat forced to be tamed inside such an opulent civilized cage. "Whatever moment I can steal…whatever instance I can take back from time's encroaching hands, I will do what I can willfully and with no regret…for a moment with her, I would dare so much more than the rebuke of the entire Coven…"

"Have you thought of where she is…? You said that you can see her--!"

"I see through her eyes…that's true…but only when intense emotions are involved…otherwise…she is like hidden in mist from my eyes…I can feel her but that is not the same thing…it is never quite the same thing as having her near…"" He ran a distracted hand through his bronze hair and closed his eyes against the helplessness that threatens to engulf him. "Anyway, have you made progress in locating it?

"There is a rumor that an old gallery has acquired a collection of books some years ago from one of our kind that met an unfortunate end. If what they say is true, he was in charge of your mansion the night of your capture."

"Ah and typical of the Council bureaucrats, he couldn't resist the notion of taking the booty from an undefended keep…" a derisive smirk painted his lips. "Are the rumors confirmed?"

"I don't know yet but we can find out if you want. I sent one of the items in your hot-list there too…"

"Dare I assume that that's just coincidence?"

"You know I don't know what assume mean. Actually, they have an expert there—someone who knows how to restore what they call ravaged artifacts."

"And the reason that this insignificant gallery was chosen?"

Emmett gave him a surprisingly boyish grin that belied the oddness of his fangs peeking from beneath his well-meaning smile.

"Well for one thing you know someone working there."

* * *

**BELLA  
**

"It's a magnificent relic…" she murmured softly, gazing at the broken, ravaged pieces as if she could see how it might've looked like once its glory has been restored. Thus, preoccupied as she was with her musings she missed the slight curl of Alice's lips as she glanced contemptuously at the relic.

"It's just that wood and tattered canvas…nothing more and certainly nothing less…just wood and fiber…and man's infinite ability to put whatever haunts him into tangible form…if you think that's magnificent, you're insulting the Parthenon and Da Vinci…honestly pet, what do you see in restoring things like these?"

Bella gave an indulgent smile and shook her head disbelievingly at her mentor's blithe reply. "You must admit it's magnificent…there's something quite—unreal about it…something otherworldly…something not quite—here…don't you think so?"

Alice snorted derisively before leveling a scathing gaze at the ruined frame.

"Don't get too sentimental cherie. Wood crumbles and glass shatters with the barest of touch…paint fades and even the best prepared canvas will crumble and tear if someone's careless enough. There is nothing there that wasn't fabricated by man's devious hands…" She pointed at the broken shards and frame with an index finger, the entire gesture somehow implying obvious condescension.

"You are surprisingly jaded Alice…these are things that withstood the ravages of time…"

"Things are merely remnants. 'Tis people Bella that has withstood—no, endured the ravages of tome."

She stared at her mentor with amusement and affection. Though often she was left bewildered with her unconventional methods and sharp wit even she could not explain the disdain that Alice held for the very things that stirred Bella's soul.

"These artifacts are witnesses to the genius that is humankind…don't you think they deserve our awe if not our reverence?"

Alice leveled her unusual eyes on her protégé and wondered if she really wanted to know the answer to that question. Deciding that the time was not yet right, she only muttered dispassionately.

"I revere enough things in this world cherie… but it is certain that nothing as flimsy as a decrepit painting would force me to do more than that… now, put this thing out of your mind. We have better things to think about…"

"B-b-but we were commissioned to restore it--!" she spluttered and Alice laughed aloud but her laughter was tinged with a bitter air that make Bella's stomach clench.

"You can never fully restore something…there is no such thing as a perfect or a complete restoration…wood once molded and cut attains the sculptors form and never again its own…we may polish it and carve it to our will but it will never be what it once was…glass may be replaced but we can never set the same silica over flames to forge what carelessness shattered beyond repair…we can clean the canvas and re-apply paint but it will never be the same painting…no matter how we fashion it to look the same way."

Bella flushed and murmured, "I know that…but still—!"

Alice waved an elegantly manicured hand and pressed the controls in the console that sealed the specimen back into the restoration vault. When the painting and its component was out of sight, she turned back to her audience.

"For a moment I thought someone had murdered you. Honestly that guard dog of yours should know how to tell news without making it sound like a catastrophe." Jacob, who has remained surprisingly silent throughout their initial exchange, bared his teeth and leveled a look towards Alice's small frame.

"Watch your mouth you tiny leech. I just might be tempted to take a bite out of you. Imagine asking me about a frame at a time like that?"

"Well, you did say it was something. Did you expect me to simple ignore such a tantalizing topic?" Alice pointed out reasonably, ignoring the look of intense dislike in Jacob's eyes. "Though I was thinking that this was another spell brought about by that dratted diary."

"Diary?" Jacob scowled, this time his irritation was clearly set on Bella. "You still have that moldy volume stored somewhere near you? I told you—that darn book is trouble from the moment it sliced your hand open! Just put it up for auction if you--!"

"No!" Bella shouted. With a visible effort, she gathered her composure and regarded her friends with a strained smile. "Jacob…you know that I care about your opinion…but I can't sell the diary…its not dangerous…its not dangerous or anything like that…"

"Oh really?" he scoffed. "Ever since you got that diary you've had these spells where you'd just stare into space. The first week you've had it I thought someone was stalking you! You lost weight! You shut yourself inside that apartment and now this!"

"I was just busy--!"

"Shall I leave you two children alone so that you can chew on each others leg and pat each other's back or whatever it is you two consider as bonding?"

"Oh shut it you witch!"

"Make me you dog-breath!"

"Oh honestly you two!" Bella snickered, eyes alight with laughter as she stared at the two people closest to a family she had in the city. "Shall we go out and have dinner?"

"Only if I can sit well away from prissy leeches dressed in designer duds." Jacob muttered. Alice gave him a smile that made a shiver run up his spine but he concealed that out of long practice.

"Oh and like there are places that allow pets to just waltz in without comment."

"Enough. Come and have dinner. Let's go." Bella grabbed Jacob's arm and tossed him her coat. She turned to lead Alice out when the small woman grabbed her hands and smoothed a hand across her cheeks.

"You can deny that there are things that disturbs you little Bella but we see things just as well—if not clearer than you do. I know that what you hold close to you might hurt you but still you cling to it with hope. Still you wish for the impossible." She raised a hand to tilt Bella's chin, raising her face to peer into her eyes. "You are naïve ma petit…you have that much going for you. Come now, we must leave. Time is not something I wish to waste, though I have more than enough of that for sure…"

* * *

_**Edward's POV**_

I barely noticed when Emmett left my side. Consumed by the thought and all too brief taste of what being in her presence was like, I found no patience or care for anyone or anything else. I hungered for her. It was as simple as that.

Her presence was too strongly needed; like a thirst acknowledged too late, I sought to quench my longing for her…she was like the sun and I the wilting, yearning flower. I lived for the memory her caress. And though I knew somewhere deep down that this was wrong, that this could only lead to unimaginable hurt and pain, so much pain… that I might compromise all that I have worked for ... I could no longer resist the temptation of her...of one stolen moment to hold on to when I must make do with her by my side...just like before…I seemed to forget everything when she looked at me. Her gaze, touch and voice, they did away with my questionable sanity, leaving me helpless and wanting. All that I could recognize was this moment…where all things are as they ought to be … as they should be…_**as they will be…**_

She is like a waking dream…a fantasy one holds onto even in the waning hours of dawn, when the knowledge that death hovers just a feet away from my skin…she is warmth and security in the chaos of the world that is the Savage Garden where we are held captive…She is my Angel of Light…Salvation given flesh…Deliverance awarded form…Redemption blessed with a voice...

I am the Dark Prince…The Dark Prince for whom both Coven and brethren alike fought like unthinking beasts. Committing treachery and betrayal with their every undying breath, all for their precious, all-too damaged Prince of the Night.

Death where she is Life…Pain where she seeks to give Comfort…Despair where she aims to inspire Hope…I am the Night to her never ending days…I am the Shadow that can not go where she treads in the Light…She is the Life that flows into my veins while I am the poisoned blood that mars her soul…I am the Son of the Night…and she is the Maiden of Light sacrificed to the undying altar of the Damned…I am the wound that bleeds for all eternity and she is the knife that made its eternal flow possible…Hers will be the womb that would give birth to a prophecy and yearning of an entire race…

She was meant to be exalted, honored above all…And she will be denied nothing…except for one thing…one truth. I am the Prince of the Coven… born of lies and betrayal…sired by treachery and deceit…even now while I bleed to be with her I can not…Cursed be the lies that wove the deception recognized too late…it has cost me everything…I am hers and she is mine…She is the heart that beats in me…the longing that course through my veins knows only of her name…my eyes only seeks her face and form... just as my entire being can only be satisfied by the perfume of her skin... And but for all the ironies of the world that the one most precious to me can never remember me…


	13. Cross Roads

Author's Note: As always standard disclaimer applies because the characters in Twilight isn't mine. Their personality within the confines of this tale however, is all mine. That you can blame on my demented mind. Enjoy!

* * *

**CROSSROADS  
**

_**Paris Present Day…**_

_**JAMES **_

He stalked the dark streets and hidden alleyways that made up the hells of night-time Paris, thankful for the shadows that lingered long after dawn threatens to break through the inky velvet skies. But for the moment, the lone hunter bears no fear for the lightening heavens. He has other concerns.

"Hell and damnation…blasted Coven bureaucratic connections…curse that thrice Damned Prince—he should have been killed long ago and not exiled!! And those cursed Volturi arranging themselves into seats of power!! I should've taken my chance then."

He cast an exasperated frown on the stain that marred his immaculate evening clothes, glaring at the offending reminder as if to will it away, but like all manners of irritants, it refuses to obey him.

"Pathetic…typical of those old doddering fools to have proven themselves, even unto death, to be troublesome and stubborn…my clothes are utterly ruined! Stupid, stupid young whore!! If only she hadn't been so tempting…if I only I wasn't so thirsty…"

His fist clenched and unclenched a few times before annoyance finally gave way to sheer outrage and with a menacing hiss he plunged a hand through the throng of mortals that dwelled just beyond the reach of the light, hauling the protesting, struggling mass towards his eager, open mouth, his fangs already lengthening to pierce through the yielding flesh. As he drank deeply from the gushing fountain of life-essence, his mind was furiously muttering about the events that occurred earlier that night. Tossing aside the drained, broken, lifeless body that once housed a mortal soul like a discarded toy; he wiped his mouth savagely with the back of one hand as one truth assailed his trembling form.

"Useless…even someone young and healthy is worthless to me…nothing seems to quench this infernal thirst…nothing…"

_It wasn't enough…still he thirsts…still the hunger lingers in his veins…assuaged for but a moment… yet still…unanswered…He needs blood like that of that wretched child that revolting Prince treasured so much…the deep lingering perfume of her blood…even the faintest smell of it was enough to quell my hunger pangs…how much more his hunger would've been satiated had he been given the chance to feast on that unusual immortal._

"If lowly mortal cattle are no longer good enough, then the ranks of the immortals might soon be on my menu."

Closing his eyes wearily, he leaned against the cold, rough walls and breathed a sigh. He raised one perfectly steady hand towards his face, unaffected by the blood that smeared the flawless marble perfection. He stood there, still as a carven angel, wondering why, even as his body rejects the inferior nourishment his half-hearted hunt provided, it still did everything possible to preserve the power that the blood-essence gave to their kind. And with his body resuscitated with short-lived vigor he caught a familiar and much more welcome scent. With a manic glint in his eye and a monstrous smile, he murmured, "What a lucky bastard I must be! No sooner had I complained to heaven that hell brings me sustenance. It is favorable that I have had an appetizer…on to the main course!"

Opening bright amber eyes, he pushed away from the wall and jumped to the top of a nearby building. The Gothic-inspired monolith provided more that ample covering as he once more gathered his resolve before plunging to the sea of people below.

* * *

**JAMES POV**

It took me two more hours but it was well worth the effort of traipsing through rooftops and precariously slipping tiles and faux turrets that made up the 'modern-day' Paris. I found my prey easily enough for all that it has survived eons hidden from the condemning eyes of the all-powerful Council of Coven Elders. I blatantly stalked my chosen prey, casting to the ill-winds the conventions many a-fledgling has been raised—rules such as one would not create another Immortal, one would not create an Immortal child and one would not feast on the blood of a fellow child of the night. The freedom of throwing aside years of bondage and conventions was exhilarating.

I felt none of my usual reticence I routinely harbor during these night games. The fact that this particular prey almost escaped me made hunting him down again feel like an unwanted reminder that I am, for all intents and purpose, in the bottom of the rung of power. It's a reminder I did not relish having again.

"You should've known better than to run off like that, fledgling." I gave him a leering smirk and was amused by the affronted look that crossed my prey's preternaturally alluring and ageless young face.

I watched outrage and hatred cloud his brilliant red eyes and the fierce desire to immolate me where I stood. He bared his fangs and snarled aloud. "Dare you call me fledgling when I am by far older and more ancient that you wretched excuse of a mongrel!" the young boy spat out the words with a lethal edge. "You ask why I ran. How much more of your idiocy do you need to showcase novice? I have been evading better Immortals than you. It's an insult even to contemplate that I would be laid low by someone like you."

I gave out a sharp crack of laughter and I could see that my irreverent behavior was beginning to make the Immortal child uneasy. Few of our kind exhibit the madness that seemed to lurk within me, least of all, have the audacity to display it so openly.

"You are impertinent as well as foolish if you expect me not to retaliate after you insulted me like that. Tell me, is your master only concerned with something as superficial as a pretty face?" My words dismissed any indication of admiration or awe. Whatever was left was barely concealed condescension and disdain for his kind. "Surely, he could've invested a little in picking out individuals with some actual brain instead of creating something thoroughly frowned upon like an Immortal child."

"How dare you--!"

I pinned him with a final look before pulling my arm back and then hurling it in straight into his heart. A sickening squelch sounded in the darkness, followed by a faint slither of something dripping loudly into the ground.

"Oh I dare you stupid child. I dare a lot these days. You don't scare me. I am nothing like your stupid Coven members."

With that I crushed his still beating heart into my open mouth and gave it a strong suck, draining it immediately. A faint flick of my wrist tossed the crushed piece of flesh I pulled out in distaste into the nearest trash bin. I proceeded to reduce the rest of my foul-mouthed arrogant meal into chunks of drained slabs of meat.

"Ahh…much better…I take it back Immortal Child…you _**are **_good for something."

Ten minutes, thirty…I was uncertain, as such short periods of time are a bit a twinkle in the ever flowing rivers of an Immortals life. I was in the midst of deciding if I should risk another foray into the Savage Garden when I heard the faintest of calls beckoning me to come forth into the night.

_**Come to me…child of the night…hear me…**_

The voice grew weaker but the pull became all that much stronger. I decided to yield to faint curiosity. I walked away…fading into the last vestiges of the nights shadow just as the faintest trace of blue lined the indigo skies.

* * *

**BELLA**

**Forks, Present Day**

_**August 24th Friday Dusk--**_

_An agent of death…a beautiful, alluring dream that hides within its depths a waking nightmare…Sometimes I fear that its all I am now...I am now a bound-slave to death's calling...made captive by the night time I love so much that she took me in her arms and vowed never to let go...and she hasn't yet...no...I am still hers...the night is still my demanding, unforgiving mistress..._

_My thoughts are often dark…as my immortal life only truly comes in the black of night so is my very soul rendered in similar hues. Black as any tattered stained soul...black as the shadows that lurk within every corner of my mind…dark and shadowed as every hidden nook and cranny that conceals all of my poisoned depths…_

_I am a creature that bears the visage of an angel though in truth I was a being spawned from hell not heaven…a creature suited only for nightmares and tales of death…A creature belonging to the cover of the night...reborn with the sensibilities and detachment of one who is Damned... Someone who can only watch and wonder at the complexity of those around me...never knowing what motivates them to be what I am incapable of being..._

Bella closed her eyes against the pain that lingered so prominently from the tattered pages of the diary she held lovingly in her arms, her touch brushing across the smooth surface of the aged vellum...seeking to instill a bit of tacit comfort for the unknown scribe whose words cried out clearly in longing.

_**I wish you found some measure of peace…your words seem so sad…**_

_My hands drips with blood...they are often this way…I refuse to wash them after a long night of hunting…the idea has no merit—the stains they bear could no longer be washed away. My hands have known no contact except with the warm flood of blood flowing heedlessly to its very tips…staining…staining…ever more so with every fleeting touch…_

_My eyes have grown aloof and distant…devoid of any emotion save cruelty and contempt…There is no image that seem more real to me than that...of thousands upon thousands of bodies strewn before me like broken dolls…mortals that ceased being more than just pieces of flesh and bone, staining….bleeding…eyes vacant with the look of fear emblazoned upon their visages…some with the look of exquisite torture in them…_

Tracing the beautiful calligraphy with the tips of her fingers she wondered once again who the mysterious owner of the volume was. Her meager attempts at unearthing clues to the diary owner's name revealed nothing but dead ends which strengthened her belief that the volume was a treasure, though very privately kept volume. One that might have been part of someone's extensive collection—if she would deduce that from the quality of the leather binding the pages—then she wasn't far off the mark.

_Ah…introspection can be such a double-edged knife...it cuts you open to show you truth that you sought at such a high cost… and then bleeds you dry so that truth becomes a waking nightmare that haunts you with images of what you are not…what you can never be…like the inevitability of sunrise coming after the horrors of the night—standing there, constant as a timeless sentinel…watching…guarding…a vivid reminder that unlike everything around me I am not the same…I have the best and worst of the world inside me…beauty and ugliness…life and death…dreams and nightmares._

_I dislike the distinction…that invisible wall—so thin, so impossible for someone like me to simply walk up to and shatter. Having to always be reminded that though I draw breath I am not alive…that even as I bleed, I can never feel...that though I yearn for tomorrow I have nothing and will have nothing but unending yesterdays and todays…_

With a sigh, she flipped over the pages until she reached her favorite part of the journal. It was a carpet page, wonderfully illuminated and filled with an elaborate, exquisitely designed entwined initials. It took her all of two weeks before she could make out the words but in the end she was finally able to know the name of the mysterious scribe whose words caused her heart to clench in pain every time she read them.

_I have watched everything that was mortal in me die, piece by excruciating piece…I stood there… a mute witness to the demise of all that was good and human within my fragile form… silent as a tomb until my voice dwindled to a keening halt. The echo of voiceless screams that that remained as my innocence was ripped from my very grasp until finally...all that was left behind was an empty hollow shell that can offer nothing save desolation and despair_

_Like a fool I tried in vain to fill the empty cavern of my soul with the blood of the wicked, the depraved…hoping that somehow it could assuage the hunger that lingered in me…I don't even remember what I was before… except in my nightmares…when the cruelty of my mind replayed images of what once was and what will never be ever again…a creature that is neither dead...nor completely alive...in my nightmares I see heaven holding open tender arms though but for the pain they cause me I would label them dreams…but dreams die where I dwell…I and my kind usually end the dreams of those we are too shallow and too proud to ever openly admit we envy…they who in their own passing folly yearns to trade places with us…_

No matter how many times she told herself that her friends had a point in saying that she has grown overly-fond of keeping the diary close to her person, she couldn't resist. Even as her training kicked in and reminded her that though vellum should be touched periodically to keep their suppleness, what she was doing was against every document expert's training, she couldn't forgo the strange sense of pleasure she derived from being in physical contact with the bound volume.

_**I know that I should keep you in a locked, temperature-controlled vault…but I can't do that…it seems so wrong somehow to let you be alone again…**_

Bella gave a rueful smile as she found herself rehashing her peculiar habit of conversing with books and things that hold her interest. And none more so than the much-maligned diary that Jacob tried to convince her should be burned for the nth time.

_**I wish I could have met you…Do you think we could have been friends…Edward Anthony…?**_

She was so engrossed in her musings that she failed to hear the sound of footsteps echoing as they traversed the steps leading to her third floor apartment. She was caught unawares until her front door slammed open and in came an exquisitely turned out and thoroughly annoyed young man. The sound surprised her so much that she only managed to give an undignified squeak as she fell of her couch and landed on her back where a pair of feet stood still with polished wingtips a bare two inches away from her face.

"Anyone ever told you to knock before coming in to a girl's room?" she groused as she spied what suspiciously looked like polish on his unusual choice of footwear.

"I don't see a girl anywhere here."came the thoroughly unamused repartee.

"Don't be dense. I'm still one." Bella gave her friend a wary look as he reached out of a hand to help her stand. Once upright, she patted her clothes in place and ran a harried hand through her hair. "Okay, so I might barely pass for one, but I am one just the same."

Jacob gave a sniff. I haven't noticed. I assumed that this was no one's room. I was certain this was the empty storage room where they keep useless junk."

"Keep your high opinions to yourself you pompous brat. What are you doing here anyway?"

"It's nearly seven! You're not even dressed! I should have known this was going to happen."

"Huh? So what if it's seven. It's not that late and I don't have anything else to do and I too am dressed! I wouldn't sit in my own living room buck naked you know. I'm not that much of a hedonist like you."

Bella tossed a pillow she found on her floor straight to Jacob's grinning face. It fell on the floor once more after he managed to dodge in last minute. "Oh, big word again. The point is, my forgetful idiot waif, you do have an appointment tonight. You're my date."

"Date? What date? You don't mean—me?!!" But I haven't heard anything from you since yesterday when you were chewing my butt for even considering the idea of restoring the frame here! What is this thing you're talking about this time?"

"The Arcane Society's Annual Elysian Ball. I have to make an appearance on the say so of our illustrious employer and since I refuse to be bored out of my mind all by my lonesome, I am dragging you with me."

It took her a moment to find her voice and organize her thoughts but when she did, her response was illuminatingly brief.

"Not for all the ice-water in hell."

* * *

**EDWARD **_**Present Day**_

The commute to the hotel where they held the annual ball was never pleasant for him. He disliked being around the members of the brethren for the most part and his distaste was magnified whenever humans were invited to mingle amongst them like lambs asked to seek the company of rabid wolves. The allusion was even more irksome even if he had to concede that it was apt. Dressed in an impeccable black three-piece suit, white shirt and a vivid scarlet tie he looked the part of the elite moneyed crowd. That his bearing and reticence made him more sought after rather than despised and his famed icy nature was hailed by critics and admirers alike as 'elusive allure'—thus far no one has seen him give a personal remark or act as anything other than as a prince. He intends to allow the matter to stand as it is.

"We will be arriving in ten minutes, sir."

"Thank you."

He hated the indecision that rides him. For the first time in a long time he is unable to proceed with his usual decisiveness. Though everything in him is screaming to go and get the one creature he has longed for—he is unusually reticent. Something was holding him back and it was making his mood blacker than the night that's wrapped around him like a jealous lover. He watched as the car slid closer to the monolith that keeps within its depths the woman he nearly sold his soul to possess and here he is…trying desperately to control the gnawing ache in his heart and the mad urge boiling in his blood to march up the stairs and claim her.

_If only I was certain that she would be inside this stone tomb…but all the wishful thinking in the world could not bring her to my side._

He can not make a move...it was too soon...he doesn't intend for anyone or anything to get in his way this time around...and he dare not risk exposing his frail conquest to the turmoil of his world...he vowed once before that he will not bring into his night someone who can not defend themselves...he will not break that oath. He will proceed with as much caution as he could manage—or die trying. He will never allow his own reckless nature to bring her to harm once eyes brimmed with frustration. It hasn't even been a week since he found where she lived and danger already made its presence known. He caught the scent of another like him—familiar and equally loathed_. The bastard from the Hells._ Though the danger wasn't directed towards either himself or Bella, the effect on him was still the same. _Danger was found too close to home…far too close for his peace of mind._

With a defeated sigh, he brought out something from his pocket that shimmered and gleamed in the light of the streetlamps. It was a necklace—an impossible thin rope of gold chains connected by a delicate clasp that seemed so fragile in his beautiful alabaster hands. Swinging idly from it was a single, flawless diamond heart.

_Will I ever have the chance to give you this paltry gift…? Or should I wonder if you will accept it as readily as those flowers I left for you to find?_

With a sigh, he dropped the necklace back into his breast pocket and waited for the driver to open the door for him. Alighting, he turned towards the museum when acute hearing alerted him to the sound of gravel crunching beneath another set of rubber tires. As he turned to look, poised and unmoving like a well-dressed mannequin on the first step of the long impressive marble stairs he saw a long black stretch limousine stopping just inches from where he stood. His eyes however, betrayed neither amusement nor anger. In them were a look of incredulity and a sense of disbelief. He can not be mistaken. That resonance belonged only to one other person...someone that shouldn't even be here...

_Merde…Emmett couldn't possible mean her…_

He braced one hand against the cool steel balustrade, hoping against hope that he read the signs wrongly, knowing that he couldn't possibly make such a mistake. His fist tightened imperceptibly as he waited for the sound that would herald his decided to take the offensive and stepped out of the shadows and into the light .He stood squarely in front of the car door and assumed his most stoic mask.

_Hell no...so much for wishing…_

The door swung open without a sound. A small set of feet clad in leather stilettos peeked before settling on the concrete road. A long train of black silk slithered down, followed by a small, frail-looking hand holding on to the sides of the car. A soft, breezy voice came from beneath the delicate looking silk.

"You know, I have a feeling that the reception waiting for me could only be described as acerbic. I would not have staged the scene this way if I hadn't known exactly how you would react, Big Brother."

Edward stood his ground, refusing to assist the alighting passenger. His unusual eyes flashed dangerously in the glowing light of dusk, narrowing in obvious temper. The lone rider alighted with hardly a sound except for the cool whisper of silk brushing against silk. The passenger was dainty to say the least, obviously a young person, female, if you could assume, from the clothes that peeked from beneath the dark, thick cloak. The figure stood a few feet away from Edward and gave a graceful curtsy. He bowed back before shaking his head in obvious irritation.

"I should've known...when he said I knew someone here I was wondering what he meant by that cryptic statement."

Her lips twitched under the cover of her hood. Her eyes strayed from the gravel path straight to those outraged eyes of her irate brother. His words would seem callous and rude to those that would hear him speak but she felt the inherent affection in them. _He was her brother_...she knew him better than anyone else and if his gruff greeting was anything to go by, Edward was really surprised to see her. Her topaz-colored eyes sparkled with amusement as she slowly pulled the satin ties that held her cloak.

"It has been too long since I saw you Edward…did you miss me? Or did you just come here in hopes of seeing a glimpse of your precious little Bella…?"

Edward watched with dread as frail, long-fingered hands reached up to pull the silk ties that held her cloak closed. Though his face remained impassive his amber eyes widened in horror as he saw the slippery silk slowly slither open, falling to the ground with a sigh of silk. He nearly ground his teeth to the gums when he saw what his little sister decided was "appropriate" for their little reunion. _Merde...she really is going to be the death of me...and we're supposed to be discreet...Hell and damn..._

"For me to miss you, you would have to be someone who brings me something I would yearn for. So far, you have brought me nothing but bills to pay and headaches for your free-spirited ways."

Alice Cullen braced herself for the look in her brother's eyes. Edward was notorious for being very proper, of knowing when and what to wear and how to act in every field and eventuality. But she had an impeccable taste in fashion. And she refuses to bow to her brother's edict towards somber, it-will-make-you invisible ensemble—especially on a night froth with possibilities.

"Careful, brother…you might actually hurt my feelings."

"I would take my chances."

"Oh well…don't be such a wet blanket. This a celebration. Well? What do you think?"

She gave a graceful pirouette. She wore her favorite black gown. It was made of silk, cool as ice and whisper-soft. The cut was Grecian, made popular during the Hellenistic period, the design left her shoulders and arms naked, except for the shawl that she casually draped over one shoulder, held in place by an emerald brooch. The trailing end of the shawl was wrapped around her forearm, preventing the priceless silk from dragging in the ground. Golden crystals were crossed across her middle to form a girdle that began from waist to her hips before falling into a knotted tie whose ends reach just an inch away from the hem of her gown. The gown itself was unadorned save for this glittering chain. She wore her hair with jewel pins, emphasizing her elfin looks. This particular hairstyle highlighted her silver ear clamps and the curve of her slender neck wrapped with a thin emerald choker. As the cloak settled on the graveled path, she lifted her eyes and gazed serenely at her brothers uncanny eyes and waited for his deliberation. She knew that she didn't have to wait long.

"You better not hope I'll allow you to wear that anywhere the public might see you. You have no concept of discretion Alice."

"I see you haven't changed one iota in the last century or so. Bella would just fall all over that icy charm I'm sure."

"Bite your tongue, minx."

"I'd rather see you bite yours, Brother."


	14. Touch and Go

Author's Note: Standard disclaimer applies. As always I am eager to take advantage when inspiration yields and allows me to write. This was a scene that nagged me today and I just gave in—no sense denying an itch when one can indulge it. Hope it proves to be as enjoyable as I felt when writing it.

* * *

_**You are my fantasy, And I've never loved so honestly.**_

_**No one's ever pleased so much of me.**_

_**You're my fantasy.**_

_**You touch the best in me.**_

_**When your touch is touched with destiny**_

_**All the rest is laid to rest in me.**_

_**You're my fantasy.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**EDWARD**

Piercing amber-gold eyes scanned the milling crowds with a hunter's awareness and a nobleman's disinterest. His lids, always at half-mast, made an effective ruse to fool those that would look too closely at his expression, waiting to see if they could detect any spark of interest in them. His gaze followed the gathered throng of mortals in front of him and allowed himself the faintest of smiles.

_What do I look like to these beings I wonder…?_

_**Certainly time hasn't dulled my appeal to these pitiful mortals that knows no better than a wayward child.**_ The smile that graced his thin, pale lips lingered for a while more as he hid the mocking truth behind the casual act of raising his glass to his mouth. This is a feast for those who knew nothing else…for him; this was a poor man's celebration. They hold no joy nor offer no excitement for someone who has lived through history's more decadent eras. He continued to stare at the goings on at the ball held by one of his many companies where he was a reluctant guest. As he sipped the warm, spiced wine, he contemplated silently the strange turn of events that prompted his appearance in public after so long an absence. His disappearance fed the rumor mills for some time and his sudden return would surely merit even more speculation. But that is neither here nor there. His eyes fell on the other occupants of the lavish hall, the rich, moneyed crowds that milled within the tasteful noise of the throng, laid before him like some perverse feast, uncaring and unaware of their precarious hold on their own mortality…certain only of their privileged status. Not a few noted his presence…but fewer still are aware of the significance his being there brought.

_I wonder if they would react had they been made aware of the polite monsters that prowl around them…or will they remain blissfully unaware of the threat moving among them, of the dark intent that shimmers like an elusive mirage just beyond their awareness, of the sharp knife-like edge between life and death they now tottered? A flick of his wrist, the mere application of strength, and their existence could be snuffed out like a spark in a hurricane._

But for now…they are safe from his wrath…For now they could still cling to their blissful ignorance and he would let them…nay permit them…the crowds of mortals that move like mindless cattle in front of him holds no interest for him…he could ignore them with barely an effort. For now they could fall back on his promise to his father and his quest for his beloved…it was an excuse as good as any…better if fact since he finds no reason to disavow the words he spoke with his father nor does he wish for any complication that might jeopardize his chances of securing his beloved. As for the few mortals around him as well as the even fewer immortals that comes across his path, he finds no reason to bestir himself by coming up with an alibi they would find acceptable. And yet…tonight, of all nights, his awareness was stirring…something…nay someone was out there…caressing his nerve endings like a faint, remembered scent. Curled up in the depths of a lush burgundy chaise lounge, his seemingly ageless ennui, he stirred. His eyes opened slightly, brilliant gold rimmed by consuming obsidian depths.

_**Something…was there…He reached out cautiously after it…feeling…reacquainting himself…Something was coming…No...More importantly than that… Someone was there…**_

He gave a dark, sinister chuckle. The night has finally yielded him a gift, he decided. She was coming to him. He would see her once again. And with that thought, an alien almost forgotten sound came from his parted lips. He was laughing. Onlookers around him paused to stare—immortal eyes opening wide at the heretofore unheard of sound as mortals thrilled at the sound even as they were intrigued by its cause.

_**Blood called to blood. She would soon come. I could wait until then. Only a few moments—but no longer than that.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**BELLA**

Jacob leveled a gaze at the only woman he could feel an iota of affection for as she cheerfully discarded her velvet coat and all but tossed it into the awaiting arms of tonight's hired help. She gave the tiny young maid a smile and murmured a quiet apology before turning away to head to the grand ballroom where the party was being held. Dressed in a simple empire cut teal silk gown, her hair swept back into a simple low pony tail and bare of any other accessory, Bella looked the part of a Greek muse come to life to play with mortals that night. As she methodically worked the room, greeting colleagues and the museum's director, fielding the speculative questions about her presence with him and accepting a flute of champagne he wondered if he should've simply agreed with her earlier decision to stay at home.

"Are you seriously considering restoring that piece of trash tonight? In the middle of this soiree? You are a really nasty little monster Bells."

She gave him a saucy grin and bit into a canapé with audible snap of her excellent teeth.

"Shut it my big wooly date. If I have to be here, I would do something worthwhile with my time. I was planning to pull an all-nighter so I'm grateful you saved me the trip and provided me with free food. I must say you have your uses from time to time Jake."

"Be still my bleeding heart. You're seriously whacked Bells. People are spending the night dancing and enjoying themselves—but you, you my brilliant little imp, wants to spend it working your hands to the bone sanding rotted, trashy wood."

"Its not trash Jacob…it's a piece of art…just look at the frame it came in—it's exquisite."

He trudged after her as she quietly left the noise of the ballroom and proceeded with glee to the hallway that led to her room. As she opened the doors to the small library that led into the restoration room she gave a little surprised shriek as she found herself buried in an flood of what appeared to be a few dozen rotting volumes.

"You found what you're looking for yet Bells?"

"Stop being such a typical guy Jake and fish me out. I need to move around and all these books aren't helping." Bella's voice was muffled by the books she was busily perusing. As she tossed around a few more scrolls, she turned to look at her erstwhile companion.

"By the way, how come you're here? I though that some really important contributors are coming to see you? Wasn't there a Sam-something or other that wanted your opinion on something?" she tried to move a few more books when a mini-avalanche blocked her way. Jacob gave a loud and clearly annoyed harrumph of distaste as he used his foot to clear up a path.

"The way you're buried in all these junk, it's a wonder you can keep track of all the office gossip around here."

"People here usually talk like they're going deaf, which means it's pointless to eavesdrop when you can hear them practically a block away. And if you haven't yet discovered—marble halls are very good for carrying sounds. I don't even have to leave this room." She reached out a hand and waited for Jacob to rescue her from her current predicament. Jacob gave an amused snort even as he offered a hand to fish her out of the fallen pile of dusty tomes.

"You know, if you contract some unknown sickness or allergy from all the bacteria in this room, I'll gleefully say 'I told you so' and laugh while doing it."

"There's no bacteria here Jacob—its climate controlled and besides—you'd feel sorry for me." Bella turned and carefully restacked the volumes back into their proper shelves. "And as soon as Alice comes back with credible proof about my research about the frame, I could start working on it."

"The frame?" Jacob tossed a surreptitious look at the frame that was currently clamped unto two free standing table designed for such reconstructive work. Propped carefully behind temperature-controlled glass case was the remnants of a tattered canvas, its subject concealed beneath a thick murky layer of god knows what. "Shouldn't you be more concerned with that pathetic burlap over there? I mean look at that trashy piece—it's fraying even as we speak!"

Bella couldn't help but laugh at the disgusted note in Jacob's voice. Shaking the dust from her hands, she grabbed a rag and wiped them clean before running her hands across the exquisitely rendered carving.

"I can't just restore it if I'm not sure what the history is behind its image. I mean while I'm still waiting for the paint analysis, I need to find some kind of background. Alice is doing that for me—I already found some clues but I'm asking her to verify it."

"Like that leech in designed duds would actually do an honest day's work on her high-stepping hinny. You might actually have to wait a few years for that verification."

"Jacob, stop insulting Alice—she isn't even here to defend herself."

"Hah! That's half the fun—if she's here she'd ruin it for me." He helped her wipe down the now-gleaming ebony surface of the frame. Tilting his head, he gave an impressive wolf whistle.

"That's one monstrous frame. Seriously-who would make such ugly image and make sure that someone else could see it?"

"It's not ugly Jacob—you and Alice—what's with you two? You never seemed to like anything—well except insulting the things I happen to like." She picked up a small brush and carefully dusted the crevices where dust have lodged for unknown number of years.

"Bite your tongue—I don't want to have anything in common with that leech." Jacob turned to see the strange gleam in the Bella's telltale eyes..._I wonder what she sees in things like these…images that most people would call nightmarish would call to her like a lover and she in turn adored them—making them come alive in her hands—restored anew._

"So what did you find out about this newest patient of yours?"

Bella opened her lips to answer when she noticed a figure of a dapper old man standing just outside her door looking as if he has been waiting there for quite some time. Recognizing the man as the head of the natural science division, she gave Jacob a nudge and pointed towards the old man. Jacob heaved a sigh and gave her shoulders a friendly tap.

"I guess I'm being paged."

"Looks like it."

"Great…my night if officially complete—I'd be forced to listen to another pedantic lecture on things I would rather not know for the better part of the night."

"Play nice. That man pays your bills and makes sure you can afford those nifty toys of yours."

"Point taken. I'll swing by after I'm done and I'll bring you home, alright? We can catch a bite of real food afterwards. Nothing in this room would feed me."

"Thanks. I'll take you up on that offer of food. I know I'll be stuck here for a while."

"See you later Bells."

"Bye Jake."

Bella turned back to her inspection of the frame after hearing the door close behind Jake. She was so intent on her work that it took her a moment to realize that contrary to what she thought, she wasn't alone.

"Jake you inconsiderate mutt, close the door will you?"

"I am sorry…I'm not Jake."

The voice startled her. Turning, she looked at the silhouette of a man that stood just in front of the wall scone that served as lighting for the halls. The light behind him obscured his features, rendering his entire face in shadows.

"Hello? May I help you?"

The stranger gave a small bow and Bella found herself charmed by the old-fashioned courtesy. Her lips curved into a more welcoming smile as she waited for him to speak again. When he did, it was with a voice that sent her pulse raising and her hands a-trembling.

"I apologize for startling you. I never meant to scare you."

"I-I wasn't scared…just surprised. I didn't think anyone was here."

There was a faint trace of laughter in the man's voice when he spoke again, though as before, he remained standing just outside her door, his features seemingly animated beneath the concealing mask of the light's shadow.

"I was talking a walk. I'm afraid I have grown—is it polite to find oneself unmoved by the night's event?"

"Unmoved? Oh, you mean you were bored?"

"Much as it would be rude of me to point out the obvious to my gracious host."

"You're in a museum; I wouldn't think it odd—especially for someone as young as you seem to be."

"You are young too…are you bored as well?"

Bella gave a small snicker at the thought and shook her head in denial, unaware of the delightful picture she made with her dark silken hair against the cool teal silk.

"I can't get bored here since I kinda stay here most days."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Well, I work here."

"You--?"

"Yeah…"

"I-I- didn't think of that possibility.."

"That's expected. I know I don't look like I belong here but there you have it. I am a restorer here."

"You restore art?"

"Yes."

"What are you working on right now?"

Bella gestured towards the frame and picked up her discarded brush. She felt the young man come closer and breathed out a sigh of relief, not knowing that the act brought an amused smile on her unnamed, faceless guest.

"An old painting." She touched the old wood once more before murmuring softly, "According to what I've found so far, the frame and painting were made for two star-crossed lovers. Whether it was inspired by real people or not remains to be seen or in this case discovered."

Bella listened as the young man moved further into the room before settling on one of the leather ottomans that served as chairs inside the restoration room. Propping his back against a wall, he settled in to listen to Bella's soft lilting voice as she recalled the history behind her newest project.

"They were not meant to fall in love...but they defied what they were born to be...they cast away the chains that bind them and made their own paths...many said that had they been given enough chances...theirs would have been the greatest love in all the worlds...but alas...all the realms condemned their affair...and who could blame them...?" Bella gestured towards the two lovers lovingly rendered on lustrous ebony. "They were born from the extreme ends of the spectrum...one borne of light...the other of darkness...of warmth...and the lack of it...she held life in her hands...and he delivered death without reverence or remorse...they were not meant to be one..."

"Is that how you see them?" the young man's voice was quiet, contemplative. Bella wondered if she caused some offense. She stared at the dismantled painting in front of her and tried her best to compose her thoughts.

"I see mostly the possibility inherent within them. I am pragmatic enough to know that sometimes dreams fail but something about them compels me to hope. I could only extend the same hope that whatever's underneath that grime would equal to the beauty of that frame."

"The painting it holds--I guess you could say it bears the painters hope."

Bella caught her breath. This stranger has an idea of what the painting shows--perhaps he has already seen it once? She turned to ask her guest.

"How did you--?"

She was alone. Her guest vanished as silently as when he appeared. The only visible proof of his presence was the faintest scent of winter and a single white rose that glittered in the faint light. When she dared to rise from her chair and touch the unexpected gift, she was dumbfounded to realize that her guest left more than just a simple bloom. With a trembling finger she raised the rose closer to her face and traced the dewy edge with her fingertips. Bella gave out a gasp when her brain finally caught up with what her eyes was telling her. There, lying within the fragile petals of the flower was a gem hanging from a shimmering, impossibly thin golden chain. Bella held up the fragile chain and felt her heart skip a beat and heard a voice that called to her on a very visceral level. Suspended from the golden spun chain was a pendant shaped like the sun--its face and rays created from tiny flawless diamonds and there in the center of the sun--there, caught in the center of the luminescent diamond sun was a single sliver of red--like a drop of blood trapped within a crystalline heart.

* * *

_**Once those dreams begin**_

_**Coming in the dawn.**_

_**For you are my fantasy**_

_**And I let your vision dance in me.**_

_**Now the dance won't let the dancer be**_

_**Just a fantasy,**_


	15. Dangerous Ground

Standard Disclaimer applies because this isn't mine. Twilight is the product of Ms. Meyer's genius. I am merely borrowing her cast. Hope his clarifies things. Contrary to opinion--I haven't abandoned this story--it just needs time. Like most things in life.

* * *

**Dangerous Ground**

"_**With what a childish and short-sighted sense**__**  
**__**Fear seeks for safety; recons up the days**__**  
**__**Of danger and escape, the hours and ways**__**  
**__**Of death; it breathless flies the pestilence…"**_

_**

* * *

**_

**_In a remote Italian Village..._**

It was a fortress in all but the strictest definition of the word. The black marble façade gave even the most casual of observers' more than just a sense of awe—it made more than one tourist flee from some hitherto unknown sense of self-preservation. The Fortress of the Volturi may look, for all intents and purpose, like an extremely well-to-do's official residence or an Old-World corporations headquarters but it was so much more than that for those that knew of its existence. The Fortress was where the most powerful force in the Coven resides.

The interior was an art historian's dream come true. Each room was decorated with a gracious knowledgeable hand with furnishings that spanned all that is beautiful and elegant from human history. The graceful columns of the Greek lined the halls, the floors covered fabulous tile work from the Byzantine era, sumptuous carpets woven by the very best weavers of the Persian empire cushioned the feet as they glided into every room, muffling footsteps and the sound of servants threading through their duties, gilded frames and mirrors bouncing their light off the enormous Austrian crystal chandeliers, priceless immaculate tapestries that would shame many a castle in Europe.

And everywhere else inside the magnificent structure, the sense that time has stopped permeates—like as if the Fortress has stopped moving into the present and remained poised at the threshold of time—caught in the gleam of the golden era before modernity made everything impersonal and simple. Here…within the confines and control of the wealth and influence of the Volturi time flows and ebbs only with express dictate of its occupant and master. And at this precise moment two of the members of the elite Volturi guards stood impassively beneath the shadow of the Fortress' immense gate, towering over a figure that stood shivering in the light of the dying sun.

"Who goes there? Come closer and be acknowledged, Child of the Night."

"I wish to speak to the Rulers of the Realm. My name is…!"

"I know who you are…you are the one called Victoria."

Here we find one the Fortress's permanent resident. Petite and fragile looking, the young woman stood inured to the cold air wafting through the city, dressed as she was in a blood-red leather cat suit and a cloak of true scarlet. Her blonde hair was confined to a simple chignon and her delicate features overpowered by the inhuman gleam of her distinctive burgundy eyes.

Victoria knew power. More than that being a hunter herself she has trained herself to assess potential prey and to stay alert of those whose power could exceed hers. The woman that stood in front of her now is not only a far superior hunter—there was a well of cruelty flowing through her veins—the likes of which Victoria could only dream of possessing. She swallowed painfully—whether it was due to hurt pride or simple pain—even she could not tell.

"I-I-I d-don't know who you are but--!"

A cruel smile slashed across the brilliant crimson eyes and lips of the blonde. She battered her lashes in a parody of warmth and charm. In a sing-song voice she replied coolly.

"How rude of me. I haven't introduced myself yet. I am called Jane. I am one of the Volturi Guardians."

Victoria tried to gather her dignity once more and pressed on with her intent. "I beg your indulgence my lady. I came here to speak to Lord Aro...I must see him!"

"Must?" The woman raised an eyebrow imperiously as a malicious spark glowed deeo within her burning eyes. "Are you by any chance demanding to see the Princes of the Realm?"

Victoria nearly screamed in panic. _She needs an audience with the Volturi rulers. It was her only hope ._"No! That is not it! I only wish to convey important information to Lord Aro! Something he must know!"

"Then why don't you tell me what this information is all about? I will see that Lord Aro hear of it."

"I cannot! I must tell only Lord Aro and no other! Please! You must let me speak to him! You don't understand it is important!"

Pain exploded inside every atom of her body the moment she finished speaking. Unimaginable agony ripped through her already battered body until all that Victoria could manage was a faint, horrid shriek.

"I. Don't. Understand?"

A gurgle of pain was all that Victoria could manage under the onslaught of agonizing pain. The smile that bloomed on Jane's lips would've frightened even the hardiest of criminals.

"Now, tell me why you came here."

The sudden cessation of pain came too late. Gasping, Victoria could only mutter incoherently. It took her a long moment before she could muster enough strength to speak.

"I-I-I will tell Him."

"What did you say to me, slave? Tell me you did not just refuse an order from me. No one in their right mind would dare."

Victoria could only stare at the pitiless face that peered down at her contorted form and struggled to shake her head. To her everlasting relief, Jane didn't see it fit to give her another demonstration of the guardian's dark gifts and gave the shaking immortal a winsome smirk.

"Oh, pooh. You're no fun. Fine. I will take you to them. You and I can play much later when they're done with you." With that Jane turned away to lead to the inner sanctum of the Fortress. Shaking, Victoria struggled to her feet and began to drag her forlorn form after the scarlet-robed figure walking before her.

* * *

**Princes**

Caught like a study in light and shadows, the Volturi perched on a Regency chaise lounge. Two had hair the color of the blackest night, his companion blessed with mane whiter than snow. All of them had eyes uncannily in the shade of deep red wine. Clad in flowing robes of burgundy silk, they appeared more like a three-dimensional painting—frozen in their perfection for all time. Except that they move, all so sinuously and with an indefinable grace that made even the most jaded fledgling stand in awe. At the moment, their faces were calm; no hint of feeling crossed their flawlessly beautiful visages as they stared at their guest.

"Marcus…_look_ at what came to visit…a little grubby tabby cat that's seen better days…isn't it pitiful?" a soft sensuous voice broke the near-oppressive silence that characterized the gloom of the reception room. The reply when it came was cool, polite and empty of any inflection. His companion spared their 'guest' a single glance before turning away. When he spoke, his voice—though soft and appealing—couldn't hide the dismissal he felt.

"Aro…must I be here? I have no desire to listen to her words…I know how they will end…and I know what she wills…my presence here is not necessary…must I stay?" He rose from his ornate throne and moved towards the arched doorways that led away from the throne room. Caius turned to look at him to inquire quietly.

"Are you feeling ill brother? Is the sight of such an Immortal upsetting to your delicate sensibilities?"

Marcus cast a level look at Caius. His lips did not move nor did his eyes give away any change of emotion. He simply looked at the white-haired Volturi leader until Caius himself turned away. Only then did Marcus speak.

"She could offer me nothing. Her ties have been forged long ago though she was too blind to seek it on her own. Had she done that—perhaps I would spare her my attention. She has not done so. I have nothing to see here." He stood quietly beside the closed doors once more and waited for Aro's response.

"I understand you point, old friend…And of course, you are free to come and go as you please, but aren't you even the tiniest bit curious?" He waved a delicate hand at the other occupant in the room. "It is not often we are in the presence of a resurrected member of the Coven."

"I have never been interested in resurrections…there is very little in the world that holds sway over me…certainly nothing she has brought could touch me…" and with that Marcus simply swept out of the room in a whisper of silk.

The aforementioned guest couldn't have looked as far from the sartorially elegant twin left behind. Her hair was matted with dirt, her skin crusted with dried blood and grass stains, her clothes once beautiful were now no more than ragged tatters hanging precariously on her thin frame. All that hinted at their shared kind were the crystalline talons that tipped each digit of her hand and the burning intensity in her red-tinged irises. That, and the barely restrained feral tension that gripped her entire body. When she spoke, her voice was scratchy as if from disuse.

"My lords…I apologize for the intrusion. I know that my appearance leaves much to be desired but I had to some here as soon as I was able…please forgive my hasty visit…"

Aro leveled an assessing look at their guest and wondered if he should be merciful and rid her of her pain or watch as she squirmed under his condemning eyes. He gave a faint smirk that came and went faster than the blink of an eye.

"Yes, indeed…your appearance is an affront to the Volturi. Have you no sense Fledgling? To come here without at least cleaning up first? Look at yourself—is this how someone gifted by the Night should appear to all and sundry, Victoria?"

"My lord—after the incident with his highness I have had no chance to—"

A faint displacement of air and she found herself staring at Death's eyes. Gasping, she tried to bow her head once more but the firm pressure on her chin prevented such a move. Aro murmured softly to her ear as his grasp tightened painfully.

"What did you say? What did you call That One?"

"F-forgive me…" she gasped as razor-sharp nails pierced the thin, transparently fine skin that was currently exposed by her position. "I meant no offense…but I must remind my lord that it was his lordship that ordered I keep That One my prisoner and now…!"

"And now…?" he purred.

"Now he is free my lord…" her eyes took on a frightened but manic glint that wasn't lost to the two other occupants of the room. Even with her less than appealing array, her eyes were burning with the glint of vengeance.

"And how long has it been since he was freed?" he raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand. Walking back towards the chaise where his companion remained, he tossed a comment over his shoulder. "You must think me a fool…I knew of his freedom. He has been free for nigh thirty years now…you only come to complain about it now…it's a bit too late, even for someone like us."

"When he liberated himself, he wasn't alone." She intoned bitterly. "Someone freed him. Someone knew that he was there." The comment had an immediate effect on Aro. He twirled back and stared at the woman crouched at his feet. His voice, this time, was colder and scathing as a drawn blade.

"Who would dare?" he hissed.

"I do not know his name and I didn't hear him tell of it—all I know is that he is powerful and had a presence far different from any other of the brethren. He had hair the color of gold and eyes like the forgotten blue of the sky. He came with small contingent of Immortals… of them with Dark Gifts…""

"No…! Cauis rose from his seat on the lounge and came closer to Aro, his eyes now more animated than at any point during the brief interview. "You must be mistaken. There is no one in the Coven who would dare defy an edict issued by the Volturi. Had he freed himself, then his freedom would not be contested—but if he as freed by someone else's hand—he must be brought back."

"Was he freed by someone else?" Aro asked softly. The woman shook her head in despair and anger.

"No…he freed himself…that strangera only took care of the guards posted outside my mansion. That One freed himself when dusk settled." Her eyes held haunted latent fear in them, reliving the dreadful instance when she hovered near death. "He decimated my army…he moved like a god…when he came to me…" her words stopped abruptly. When she resumed speaking, her voice took on a fevered pitch, "My lords, you must permit me to exact my vengeance and retrieve my price. That One was already given to my by my esteemed Council. He belongs to me!"

"Silence!!! Your whining hurts my ears and my patience with your stench is already at its limit. If I were of a mind I would summon the guards here to dispose of you."

"Peace, my brother…the matter will be dealt with. Do not lose your serenity. Why don't you keep Marcus company for a while. He must be lonely spending time with just his own mind and his memories to cheer him. Go…I will deal with our guest."

Cauis looked at his companion for a long time. Without any hint of what passed through his mind, whether they reached some agreement or not, he simply turned back towards the heavy carven oak doors. With a flick of his hand, the heavy panels parted. He glided through them and vanished from sight.

Aro stared at the Victoria with unreadable eyes. He moved to caress her cheeks before clasping a frail looking hand around her throat. With a move faster than the eye could follow, he slammed her against the one of the walls, making the crystal chandelier shiver and shimmer in distress. Dangling her three feet away from the carpeted floor, he spoke softly to her, keeping his brilliant eyes locked onto her surprised, fuming ones.

"Listen to my words well Victoria…I gave you a task for which you are horribly unsuitable. You failed to keep him, now you wish for a second chance?"

"My-my lord-!"

"Leave him be. I will take care of him. He is no longer your concern."

"My lord you gave him into my keeping! He is mine! My prize! I will not--!"

"Ah…do not confuse your situation nor forget yourself dear, dear Victoria. It is a miracle of timing and nature that saved your broken hide. I fear you have used up whatever grace I would've given you for the services you have rendered. This time, you will leave this matter alone."

"He knows the truth now…he remembered more than you thought he would…He knows…"

"Then it would be best that I deal with this matter personally. Do not get in my way Victoria or I will finish what he started. You must be thankful that he still has some mercy in him. I, however, am not burdened with such foolishness." With that he threw her gasping figure onto the floor and grabbed a bell pull. As the guards piled in to remove their unconscious guest, he walked towards their inner chamber, his eyes brimming with an unholy crimson light.

* * *

Victoria woke up screaming. She bolted upright and nearly screamed when she found that her body would not move. She wished desperately for the strength that once coursed through her veins. Closing her eyes she whimpered as pain assaulted her once more—reminding her of what transpired after Aro cast her outside the throne room. His guardian took their turns introducing themselves to her. It was their way to do so using their dark gift. Had she not been already through so much, she would have died from the shock. Luckily enough the tortures she suffered just before coming to the Fortress made her too malleable and therefore offered no joy for the guardians. She wondered at the irony of being thankful for one torturous night over another.

She was surprised when she felt the cool touch of a hand against her battered body. Closing her eyes, she waited for the inevitable brush of death but to her utter shock, the hands fell away only to be replaced with the touch of silk against her skin. She opened her eyes and saw another pair of red eyes staring down at her. When she tried to speak, the figure shook his head and pointed towards the IV bag containing blood that was slowly feeding into her.

"You'll need your strength. When you're better we will talk. I have a feeling we will be enjoying a bit of work together. Rest. It will be dawn soon. When night returns, we can talk about getting your revenge against That One. Now, sleep."

"…_**It walls itself in towers of defence;**__**  
**__**By land, by sea, against the storm it lays**__**  
**__**Down barriers; then, comforted, it says:**__**  
**__**"**_**This spot, this hour is safe**_**."**_


	16. Chancing Fate

**CHANCING FATE**

"_**Serene, I fold my hands and wait, Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;  
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, For lo! my own shall come to me…"  
**_

_** - John Burroughs**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

Bella's swiftly indrawn breath echoed loudly in the car as a flash of lightning lit the night sky. For a moment she could see the wildly whipping tops of the huge oaks that lined the lonely road she was traveling. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel a she tried not to consider what would happen if the lightening or the howling wind brought one of those trees down.

She already had a morbid imagination where her work was concerned, any more vivid and she might as well resign her post and apply for a vacancy in the nearest nut house. Taking a deep steadying breath, she peered ahead into the darkness and wished for the umpteenth time that she agreed with either of her friends offers to drive-up with her. But as always, her stubborn nature had reared its ugly head and she declared that she doesn't need to be molly-coddled by everyone around her.

_ Yeah...I just need a decent map, food and maybe a really significant change in the weather. The one I'm under really sucks…_

The voice inside her head was her own. Since she has started working on the newest restoration job, the other voice inside her head has been curiously absent and it would take more than her usual fear of traveling and her abhorrence towards rains to make her admit that she misses the cantankerous persona that until quite recently took semi-permanent residence in her subconscious.

_ And here I thought that I couldn't get more normal than if I tried. Who in their right mind would miss a definitive proof of insanity? Seriously…I should talk to some kind of shrink when this is all over. If nothing else, the shock on my shrink's face might prove entertaining. _

The idea made her smile. Her amusement however was short lived. A loud clap of thunder managed to rumble overhead in what seemed like a madman's symphony. With a weary toss of her head Bella tried to focus once more on the task at hand. She tried to see beyond the six feet of narrow, winding road that was all that's visible in the thin beam of her headlights, but it was impossible. The wind driven rain severely impaired visibility and she was rapidly realizing the lateness of the hour. Eleven fifteen.

Bella stole a quick glance at the digital clock mounted on her dash board and resisted the urge to knock her head against the faux leather interior. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. She should have reached her destination by now. _How many miles does she have to go before she can see some semblance of life in this dismal slice of the back of the beyond? _Oh if only she listened to Jacob when he reminded her to bring a map or at least have a GPS unit installed in her car.

_Yeah and give his already gargantuan ego another boost straight into the stratosphere._

The memory of Jacob made her wince. He was adamant that she refused the idea of traipsing through the dark in order to pander the wishes of a wealthy benefactor who just happened to also be a confirmed recluse.

* * *

"…_**I stay my haste, I make delays, For what avails this eager pace?  
I stand amid the eternal ways, And what is mine shall know my face…"**_

_Two days ago…_

"They want you to do what?!"

Bella slowly removed her hands from their protective arc over her ears when she saw how Jacob took the newest gossip from the office grapevine. She reached up to gingerly rub her ears and shook her head slowly for good measure, waiting for the ringing to stop.

"Honestly Jacob, can you not make me deaf—my health insurance won't cover the operations or hearing aids if and when I tell them the cause happen to be a hyperactive co-worker."

"What the hell do you want me to say?" he growled his hair sticking up on its end from where agitated hands had run through them.

"You can say anything you want as long as you can actually say it and not howl it from across the four corners of my office. Soundproof walls and a howling overgrown dog really isn't conducive for my health you know. I don't think it was designed for such a purpose, you know."

"I am not howling!!" he barked as he paced around the office, his usual loping walk now resembling a wild beast prowling in frustration. She blinked at the fanciful and oddly disturbing image and tried once more to make him see reason.

"Jacob, it's not an unreasonable request. You know that the gallery thrives on the patronage and benevolence of rich patrons. And if they request a visit at their homes instead on traveling to the gallery, the Director thinks it's only fair—after all we are talking about Carlyle Manor here! No gallery in the world would turn down a chance to view their prized private collection!"

She took another glance at the thick ornate envelope that contained the actual letter stating the owners request that his precious article be restored in the comfort of his home. As if he had read the direction of her thoughts, Jacob leveled a scathing stare towards the newly-freed canvass and the polished ebony frame. The frayed edges of the once grimy canvass was slowly showing signs of being restored to its pristine state but a vast majority of the piece was still very much in need of work.

"I told you! I told you didn't I? I told you this monolith belonged to some narcissistic crackpots home. You should've listened to me and just foisted this off to the art department."

"The owner wanted a restoration, not carbon dating or tracing who the artist was." She gave him a fond smile and continued packing her equipment for what seemed to her to be a long protracted leave. The Director himself ordered that she not return until the owner is satisfied with the restoration work. She was under strict orders to make sure the mansion's trustees become a repeat customer.

"Why must it be you? Bella, don't take this the wrong way but isn't there someone else—you know I'm not comfortable with the idea of you staying in some old house with nary but odd people and strangers in some unknown back of the beyond." He gave a frustrated sigh and tried desperately to control the urge to hit something. "You know how you can get when you're in one of those places." He reminded her grimly.

"I know, I know…" she nodded gently, locking her gaze with his—his dark with seething unease—hers serene as chocolate pools with only the lightest hint of lighter brown when the sun shines directly on them.

"You know that I'd rather you didn't leave the safety of this dusty place—"he cast a telling look at the box like room before snorting. "It's not the nicest bookshelf in the world but it protects you--!"

"I have to learn how to protect myself even further. Jacob, I appreciate your concern, but this is my job--!"

"There are other jobs--!!"

"Jacob…I know that you care and you have always cared for me—but this is something I have to do on my own. You can't keep sheltering me from the world. It's not going to be good for me in the long run and you know that. Please." She turned beseeching eyes towards him and Jacob cursed under his breath.

Had Bella rebelled and pouted, he knew he would have won in the end. But whenever she adopts that air of seriousness…that calm shell that seemed impervious to all arguments—that's when he knows that he couldn't do anything—nothing short of an act from God can sway Bella now. _**Hell and damn**_. When things get this way, there was only one thing that _could _be done. Negotiate for better terms.

"Fine. But the first instance you sense something's off—you make your excuses and hightail outta there do you here me? No waffling, brat, you will do as I say."

"Jacob you do know I'm older than you right?"

"What the hell has that got to do with anything? I'm bigger and stronger than you. Would you accept those as grounds to keep your stubborn hinny where it belongs?"

"Never in a million years." She gave him a grateful smile and a warm hug. Jacob held her a moment longer before finally letting her go with an earful of warnings and last-minute reminders.

* * *

"_**What matter if I stand alone? I wait with joy the coming years;  
My heart shall reap where it hath sown, And garner up its fruit of tears…"  
**_

_ And now here I am, lost just as he predicted and without the GPS he would be furious to know I left at home._

Bella tried to keep her optimism alive even as the minutes ticked by slowly…reminding her of the need for shelter and a place to get decent directions. Bella tensed as she caught sight if a pinpoint of light in the far distance. For a second she thought that her tired mind was playing tricks on her, but as the light grew larger as the moments passed by, she knew she wasn't imagining it. Taking one hand off the steering wheel, she rubbed the knotted muscles at the back of her neck. Casting a worried glance at the slim aluminum case propped on the seat next to her, she recalled the feeling that assailed her when she once again dared to read another page.

_**May 23rd...Midnight...**_

_**Thoughts...images...words...**_

_** What are they but poor substitutes for the blood-real entities that I wish were here...**_

_**Do you know regret...?**_

_** Sometimes I feel like as if that is the only emotion I have left...the only other emotion I can understand...other than despair or loneliness...regret almost seemed alive, at times...**_

_**Am I still human...?**_

_** I wonder at that...I stare at the wounds I inflict on myself, berating myself for giving in to this detestable practice...why I never really had what it took to simply be...why I give in to the weakness I despise so much. Wondering why I even bother when nothing really works and nothing really matters...**_

_**Do you still feel pain...?**_

_** I can not...I wonder at that but then again...even dying seems pointless when it can't even make you wince. It just bleeds...staining things...the real stains never come off though...no amount of cleaning could wash it away...**_

_**Do you hate...?**_

_** I wish I have the answer for that...I wish I could say that hates consumes me so that I have something tangible to fight against...but I do not have hatred in me...no burning anger...no pulsing rage...just emptiness that knows no bound...**_

_**Can you still cry...?**_

_** I know that I feel grief and that I shed tears but there are many instances when I find myself unable to...time when my pain seems inconsequential and I have nothing to give...no feelings. no tears...and then there are those times when I simply give in to my weakness...and I pour out grief and anguish in a torrent that leaves me emptier than before...**_

_**Am I alive...?**_

_** Was I ever...? I do not now what living means but I know what it is not...I know death and that's how I know I am not like the living...**_

She knows that for the most part the contents of the diary were private thoughts of someone who was deeply suffering. She felt like an interloper…like she was peering into the heart of some lonely soul and much as she is well aware of how much privacy matters, she could not resist. No matter how she reasoned with herself that what she is reading is no longer significant, she couldn't resist thinking about those lines. His words called to her…for Bella the voice of the scribe was more real than some of her own memories.

Forcing herself to concentrate, she tried once more to focus on the beam of light that steadily grew as she continued down the rain-driven road. She needed to reach the manor or if that's improbable because of the rain, she needed a motel. Her uncertainly was replaced by relief as she reached the source of light and saw a large two-story building. She stopped the car on the deserted road to read the elegantly lettered sign. _**Carlyle Manor. Private Property**_.

Her sigh of relief was short-lived when she noticed that there was no call-box and there were no clear sign of a guard house or even a camera that could alert the residents inside that there was someone aside. Cursing her preoccupation and not securing a contact number, she leaned back her head against the cold steering wheel and swallowed the uncharacteristic urge to burst into tears. Firming her lips, she rummaged through her purse and drew out her cell phone. Quickly dialing directory assistance, she tried asking for the number of Carlyle Manor. She got lucky on her first try.

"Carlyle Manor, How may I help you?"

The voice that answered the phone was soft, sensually masculine calling to mind dark nights and moonlight rendezvous. The thrill of awareness and familiarity that shot through her made invisible fingers of chill go up and down her spine.

_I know this voice…._

Rallying her wayward thoughts, Bella tried to keep the shiver out her own voice as she replied hastily,

"Hello…I do apologize for calling at this late hour, but my name is Ms. Swann and I was requested to come down and restore the painting sent to the gallery—and well—" The voice—his voice—cut her off quite abruptly.

"Where are you calling from Bella?" he asked. She gave a weary laugh and muttered unthinkingly, "Actually I'm at your front gate."

"I see. Wait right there. Someone will come and fetch you straight away."

"Thank you." She murmured gratefully. The voice answered her just once more before cutting the line.

"I'm happy that you've finally arrived, Bella."

She heard the click and the line went dead in her ear. She stared at her phone for a few seconds more before stuffing it back into her pocket. As she gathered the case and her cream-colored coat, she ran a mental check over her supplies when a nagging thought suddenly resurfaced in her mind. She stared in shock at the manor in front of her and realized with chagrin that she never gave him her name.

* * *

_**The stars come nightly to the sky;  
The tidal wave unto the sea;  
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,  
Can keep my own away from me.**__**  
**_


	17. First Sight

Authors Note: As I promised I am merely cleaning up things in NG. Those that have read this before might notice that the chapters are either becoming shorter or longer. That's a direct result of having been read and re-read by a truly psychotic mind. My apologies

* * *

**FIRST SIGHT**

"_**Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, **_

_**as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires."**_

_ --Francois de La Rochefoucauld_

_

* * *

**BELLA**_

She pulled into the driveway with a bemused expression on her face…caught still in the mystery of the nameless recipient of her call. As much as she tried, she couldn't recall ever mentioning her name. She was fairly certain she said she was called 'Ms. Swann' but she didn't include her first name—she certainly wouldn't have given her preferred version of her name rather than the more formal 'Isabella'. She tried desperately to give herself a pep-talk to staunch the rising unease within her. But even as she tried to inject logic and cold hard reason to her situation, something else was tugging at her senses.

_But how did he know…and how come he said my name so naturally…as if he had said it before…like he's used to calling me by that name…? Of all the people that calls me that way…only he sounded so—right…that voice echoing in my ear like something from a dream…and what did he mean by that? Why would he sound so relieved by my arrival? Was the painting that important to him?_

She shrugged into a cream-colored trench—impractical shade for traipsing through the country but useful enough for the few feet she'll need to reach the front door. With a brief spurt of energy, she ran towards the heavy oak double doors clutching protectively to her chest the aluminum case that held the piece she was commissioned to restore right here at its original domicile. Catching her breath, she peered into the antique glass window beside the heavy oak door and prayed that the house actually had a working door bell or else it would take a battering ram to get through the manor's threshold.

_I should stop thinking about it. I'm already here. I didn't get lost but I can't even recall details of a conversation I've had less than five minutes ago. Gotta face it, I'm dead on my feet and no one would be insane enough to read my mind through a cell phone. Just need to get inside and hope they'll give me coffee before I fall flat on my face on their immaculate foyer. Now THAT would be something I'd never be able to live down and sure as hell Jacob will use it to tie me to the restoration room's chair and never allow me to see the light of day ever again._

With a resolute smile fixed firmly on her lips, she tried the knob, admonishing herself for being a fool but to her utter surprise the heavy door swung open, revealing a curiously soothing and welcoming sight. The entrance WAS something worth getting rained on. It was almost worth getting lost too.

The interior looked extremely inviting—what with the roaring fire that blazed in the huge, ornately molded fireplace to the right of the door. Its flickering flames were reflected in the muted glow of the red Persian carpet that partially covered gleaming oak floor. She gazed longingly at the fire—wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep against one of the priceless damask covered Queen Anne wing-backed armchairs that flanked the fireplace. She desperately wanted to rest her tired aching feet and find some way to ease the pounding in her head. She shook herself from the seductive lull of comfort the room offered and tried to focus on her search for the manor's curiously missing owners. She was told that the house was fully staffed despite its cloistered existence.

Glancing anxiously at the empty room around her, she noticed a beautiful carved side table next to a bell pull. As she stepped closer, hoping that she wasn't mistaken about the bell pull, she noted that the table was actual serving as a side bar—complete with delicate crystal decanters containing what undoubtedly looked like a selection of fine spirits. She was about to turn away from her perusal of the table when her eyes fell onto one of the decanters placed way in the back. It was filled with what appeared like thick scarlet syrup.

_On a night like this, wouldn't it just be a kicker if that was actually blood? Just my luck to be sent into a vampire's lair on a night like this. Bet Jacob would be there to tell me 'I-told-you-so'._

Reigning in her wayward imagination and the sudden urge to giggle out loud, she promptly declared that it was simply a really luxurious cordial or sherry and reached for the bell pull. A blast of icy wind hit her, effectively reminding her of her situation.

An eerie feeling feathered down her spine, raising goose bumps on her wet, chilled skin. It was then that she caught the shadow of a figure standing like a sentinel on the landing on top of the carving staircase. Bella gave a grateful sigh and turned to greet her long-awaited host. One look and everything in her—time, her voice, even the wind ceased to matter.

* * *

He stood against the backdrop of obsidian night and howling winds framed by the ornate picture window at the landing leading to the second tier of the house without stirring. He stood perfectly still, like a three dimensional mannequin that came out of an 18th century novel. His unusual coloring highlighting his otherworldly appeal...unusual bronze hair that swayed as if they were being brushed by the fierce winds howling just beyond the glass—all that stands between him and the elements outside…the play of lightning against his amber-bright eyes something was that both haunted and entranced.

The most striking thing about him, other than the pale coloring of his eyes, skin and hair, was his stillness. He didn't waver or twitch in the slightest. He was poised motionless, as if he knew exactly what will happen next, as if each breath was a carefully choreographed move, executed at a precise time and manner.

He was clothed in the fashion of days long gone. As a historian, she easily categorized entire outfit as early 19th century couture—the kind the moneyed elite wore. The black velvet long coat, black pants, shiny half-boots, snowy white linen shirt and a crimson silk cravat completed the rather arresting ensemble. In his hand, covered by what looked like immaculate white gloves, was placed nonchalantly on the sleek, gracefully carved balustrade.

He remained at the fringes of her view. If he made note of Bella's awareness, he made no acknowledgement of it. He continued to watch her watch him without making a single solitary sound. His lips moved and she could have sworn that his lips formed her name…

_Bella…_

_

* * *

_

Bella felt another person's arrival but made no move to acknowledge it. She didn't know what to make of the man that stood just outside the circle of light that was all that illuminated the beautifully appointed entrance hall.

_There was something strangely familiar about him…but what it was escapes her still...Something that hinted at danger and inevitability...fierce nature and destiny...an air of ruthlessness and icy stillness..._all at once the sound of quick steps hitting the marble floor caught her attention and when she looked up once more—the man was gone …_as if he never was_…her hands fell limply to her side, unaware that she inadvertently pulled the bell that summoned her host for the evening too caught up in the feeling of loss and regret that assailed her.

"Miss Swann, welcome to Carlyle Manor."

Bella nearly jumped out of skin. Whirling around in a rush, she blushed when she finally realized that she was no longer alone. The one who spoke was a tall, imposing man with dark hair, pale skin and oddly intense hazel-gold eyes. Impeccably turned out in a simple, long-sleeved black cashmere turtleneck and trousers, he exuded an air of relaxed conviviality and honest charm.

"I am Mr. Cullen. I will be your host while you are a guest here at the Manor."

Bella scrambled to organize her thoughts into some semblance of order. Casting one last glance at the now obviously empty landing, she smiled tremulously at the man that stood before her.

"Uhm—hi! I am sorry for coming in uninvited—the door was open and I didn't think anyone heard me drive up. I called the house a while ago and someone told me to come—"

"Someone answered the phone?" he asked quizzically.

"Well, yes, I suppose that it was you? I mean, it was you—or did I call some other place?" a flutter of fear assailed her frayed nerves and she murmured warily, "I mean, this is Carlyle Manor—and I did receive an invitation—?"her voice trailed off in a nervous flutter and the man next to her gave a warm laugh and touched her shoulder. She was convinced that she had stayed too long under the rain when she failed to feel any warmth radiating from his touch.

"Forgive me. Yes, of course I received the call. I'm afraid that I have been answering calls all day that I have them mixed up in my head", he replied smoothly as he picked up her case and ushered her up the carpeted stairs.

"You have a really remarkable place here Mr. Cullen."

"Please, call me Emmett. And this place has served as our home for some generations now. To be honest, I feel like I've lived here for hundreds of years." He gave a booming laugh that inordinately cheered her.

"I wouldn't mind living in something like this. Though I think I might be afraid to move for fear of breaking something priceless and old."

"Ah that was never a problem here." He replied casually as he maneuvered the case and to her surprise the luggage she didn't notice was fetched from the trunk of her car. "We are really careful and if we happen to break anything, there's plenty more in storage to take its place. Ah! Here we are! This room was specially prepared for your use while you remain here. "

He stopped in front of another heavily carved oak door. She gave him a smile and moved to take her case when he waved her hands away and proceeded to open the door for her and deliver the cases inside. She was about to politely retire into the room when she remembered the figure she saw before Emmett's arrival.

"I'll send some coffee up. Or would you prefer something stronger?"

"Uhm—no, coffee would be more than enough, thank you. Mr. Cullen? May I ask a really odd question? And please don't think me rude."

"Sure! Fire away."

"Are there other people in residence right now?"

"A fair few. Mostly servants and the occasional tradesmen that comes for deliveries. Why?"

"Well…I thought I saw someone standing by the landing when I arrived here. But I guess if you say only servants and trades people then I guess it was just my imagination. I mean, it must have been the lightning and all that. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Goodnight."

"Well, it's no bother. But if you don't mind my asking, exactly what did you see?"

"Oh it was just a young man…I thought I saw someone wearing what looked a lot like an Edwardian evening attire standing there. He looked just like as if he was about to go down the stairs."

"I see. Someone wearing an old costume?"

"It wasn't exactly a costume at the time. Sort of like the clothes one wears when going down for dinner, I suppose. But I think it's just the exhaustion from traveling that's playing with my eyesight. I am sorry to have bothered you."

Emmett flashed her teasing grin that oddly made him look like some precocious little toddler. "No bother. Who knows, maybe you just saw the ghost of Carlyle Manor."

An amused smile painted her lips and Bella gave a small laugh. "I suppose at a night like this anything is possible. Even the idea of a ghost coming to say hello to me. Goodnight Mr. Cullen."

"Emmett."

"Oh. Yes…Emmett. Goodnight and again I'm sorry to have been such a bother."

"No trouble. I'll see you tomorrow then. And if you don't see me in the morning don't worry. The staff knows about you. I wake up late in the day…well that's it. Hope you'll enjoy your stay here."

"I know I will."

Bella closed the door gratefully behind her and so she failed to see the strange smile that suddenly bloomed on Emmett's lips. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he noted a figure detaching himself from the deepest shadows lurking in the corner of the darkened hall.

"Should I inform the little darling that she wasn't hallucinating? You know I do hate having to lie to such a nice lady."

The shadow merely nodded before moving sinuously behind him. The shadow then stood in front of the room Emmett just came from and promptly sat down, leaning against the door. Shaking his head, Emmett turned to go and quietly descended the stairs, leaving behind the figure of a man who was carefully placing an eerily pale hand across the frame of closed oak door.

"You do know you have every right to access that room. She is in your home. You should play the role of a proper host."

The shadow shook its head slowly. The hand it placed against the wood now stroking the wood as if it could not grasp the reality of it. After one final glance at his silent companion, Emmett gave a small salute before descending the stairs to vanish into one of the many rooms below. The shadow hardly moved from its spot. It continued to stare and run the pads of its hand along the smooth wooden panels lost in thought.

* * *

_**Asleep, awake, by night or day,  
The friends I seek are seeking me;  
No wind can drive my bark astray,  
Nor change the tide of destiny.  
**_

_**-- "destiny", John Burroughs**_


	18. Chapter 18

Authors Note:

I know that I shouldn't have a favorite chapter. Each one being a labor of love—I confess that this one—while proving itself a troublesome product—is one for the books. If ever any woman could be blessed with the affections of any one man—I could only hope he could feel as deeply as Edward did in this one.

* * *

**Edward's POV**

_I wish there are words to convey the craving inside of me…Her presence was too strongly needed; like a thirst acknowledged too late, I sought to quench my desperate longing for her… just like before…like the very first time...I seemed to forget everything when she looked at me. Her gaze, scent and voice, they did away with my questionable sanity, leaving behind nothing but the barest essence of my being…leaving __**me **__helpless and wanting—yearning for something too real…to elemental for mere words._

_**She is here…finally…she is here with me…she as I have always imagined her to be...**_

_I stare at the flimsy piece of wood with an intensity I doubt a door heretofore ever merited…I considered all the ironies that human writers and playwrights could come up with and none would equal to the bittersweet truth lurking within me…I, prince and Regent for the children of an undying race, held at bay by something as fragile as a piece of splinter._

_The bittersweet irony that is my current situation…surely a dilemma for all the ages. Here I am—powerful, invulnerable, blessed or cursed by the fates with powers beyond imagining—Immortal and yet helpless against a simple truth: the truth that all that stands between me and the woman I have longed and yearned for…the one woman I bled, killed and sold my soul for…chased eternity and gave up my throne for-- was a pathetic piece of carven oak I feel unworthy to even do more than touch._

_I whose strength was feared by Immortals…I whose hands delivered death swifter than the passing of a breath, whose mere passing fancy could bestow life or painful death to those that cross my path—I…from whom one look, a single word…the faintest sigh from my parted lips could reduce the most beautiful of my kind into throbbing desire or consuming fear… and yet here I am kneeling before a insubstantial barrier unable to breach it for fear of the reception I might receive lying just beyond its edge…_

_Here I am reduced to lurking in the shadows that I have grown to despise…embracing the enveloping darkness once more, thankful for its concealing mask more than I have ever been simply because it offers me anonymity…a chance to watch her whilst she threads ever closer to my world…clad in the obsidian depths of the halls I could let my eyes feast on her for just a little longer—giving yet again to the temptation of her presence…_

_Even now my veins hum with the drugging joy that swept through me—more potent that any wine from my memory…more filling than even that first taste of forbidden elixir that feeds and nourishes those who live by the games of the night…her voice…was like the finest music in ever played in my presence…the lilting cadence that rises and falls with the vagaries of her every thought and emotion…caressing my senses even as I crave for her words to be directed to me…for her lips to form the sweetest of all possible sound…my entire body trembles with the overwhelming possibility that soon I would be able to hear her voice say my name…_

_I couldn't resist making sure that she sees me when she comes through the door…A far stronger Immortal than I would be needed to stay unyielding to the temptation her mere presence creates inside of me. I couldn't defy the insanely human urge that made me want to see her with my own eyes…hold her in my presence--let my senses drink of her essence and finally convince myself that this was no dream—that she really is just a few feet away…no farther than a blink of an eye…__**finally**__…after all my searching…after all the lonely, despairing nights I have waited for a sign…a glimpse into her mind so that I might share in her joys and sorrows__**…finally she is here**__. The reality of her…no longer a figment of my yearning heart or my wandering imagination…no longer a paltry stop-gap measure to counter the crushing loneliness of the intervening years…_

_But I never gave consideration to the strength of my heart's own yearning…standing there…it was all I could do to keep myself from gathering her in my arms and never let her go…the intensity overwhelmed me and made me unable to proceed…Never had I felt such hunger inside of me…neither had I ever known such crippling vulnerability._

_I felt the marble dent and yield to my death grip. I forced myself to look at what I have done and wished for a moment to yield to my dismay but I could not allow myself to make any sound. I looked at her door once more before forcing myself to walk away. I am certain the balustrade would need repairing before first morning's light or she's bound to notice that there's a deep impression left there—the fit of a human hand crushing into the marble._

_I had to get away…I vanished from her sight the moment I heard someone come near. I vaulted through an open window just beyond the view of the landing and ran through the storm, screaming and giving myself up to the madness of the moment…The pouring torrent drenched me to the bone setting me aflame—not with bitter cold but rather enervating awareness. I laughed when thundered cracked over me, illuminating me against the majestic background of water cascading straight from heaven's door. I torn my clothes away…wanting only to feel and relish the sensation of feeling alive—enjoying the breath rushing through my veins as I hadn't done in centuries. Opening my arms to the weeping horizons I allowed myself to lie flat on the soaked earth, my body tingling from my exertions. Never had the night seemed so alive to me. __**She has finally come home to me**__!_

_Home. The sobering thought stilled my reckless flight…she was home…but not yet mine…she doesn't know me yet…though I saw a flash of recognition in her eyes…The realization doused my joy and I found myself strangely feeling strangely bereft. I looked back at the mansion I left behind in the heat of my heedless flight and began my trek back to its confining walls._

_As I walked up the same steps I fled from moments ago I realize that this moment would come…and yet I quiver with indecision…so many things are beyond my control now…and while I know that she is mine in spirit—we have been away from one another for so long…how does one go about reconnecting bonds that took a miracle to forge?_

_But I knew that I will try…no matter what happens I know that I will more than try…and I will succeed…failure isn't something I will accept for this endeavor—death is nothing compared to the pain that will consume me if I fail this time…_

_For now, as I stood there I made another vow—a deal with myself. I will content myself with her presence…and so I continue to sit there by her door…with my hands against the smooth, aged wood…I will teach myself to be contented with feel of her through the divide…knowing that when morning comes—this time it will finally come for me…this time dawn will break for us…_


	19. Dreaming

**AUTHORS NOTE:**

It has been many moons since I last wrote for this work. The loss of my file felt like the reprimanding hand of Fate telling me that I had no right to wield my impertinent pen. It broke my heart and broke my spirit in ways I could never aptly communicate.

And then a miracle happened. One existing file was resurrected. Within it lies the original chapters of Night Games before I made my poor attempts at editing. It felt like something lost was given back to me—like a death wiped clean fro my heart and mind—washing away the pain and bitterness I feared would cloud my writing. I am happy being reunited with this piece. I will do all I can to make sure I find a suitable end to this prodigal child that found its way back to my arms.

Please read and discover along with me. Thank you.

NOTES:

The rest is normal narration

_**Italic + bold = internal monologue**_

_Italic = dreaming state_

* * *

**DREAMING**

_**One meets his destiny often in the road he takes to avoid it. ~**_

_French Proverb_

_

* * *

  
_

**BELLA**

Even with her exhaustion evident from the drooping lines of her frame, she couldn't help but stare at the room that she had been given for use. She had been half tempted to turn back and ask if there had been some mistake but something about the room tugged at her senses. For a moment, she was assailed with the most unexplainable sense of nostalgia…and if she dared accept it, the faintest stirrings of homecoming.

_**This room feels so…right…so familiar…It really feels like I've come home…**_

The room was large; without doubt it was larger than her entire apartment. The décor was lavish, a massive rosewood four-poster bed that seemed overflowing with pillows and a lush satin quilt the color of muted gold stood in the center of the room. Twin Regency wing back chairs face the French doors that lead to the balcony. A clearly old and valuable armoire lined one wall along with a well-stocked lady's vanity. Bella ventured further into the room and felt her sodden shoes sink into the thick burgundy carpet. The act made her pause. Gingerly, she slipped her shoes off and placed them by the door. She stared at her wrinkled toes and resisted the urge to hide them from sight. She had to sigh at her own wayward thoughts.

_**Here I am in what is undoubtedly the most beautiful room I have ever been in and I am concerned with the state of my toes and whether I should let my shoes leave wet patches on the carpet. Gods, I really am pathetic at times…**_

Stepping closer to the bed, she slipped her jacket off with a weary sigh. She dropped it on top of the thick matching duvet before proceeding towards the built in closet and dressing room, Placing her damp cases on the floor, she took a deep breath and began to undress. Rummaging through her suitcase for the night gown she had hastily added to her wardrobe, she donned the clothes with a sigh, thankful to get out of her damp clothes. She had just belted the silk dressing gown that matched her night gown when she heard a discreet knock. She went to the door and peered at a fresh-faced maid bearing a tray with a pot of coffee and a cup. She thanked the young woman and was reminded in turn that breakfast will be served promptly at eight. Closing the door after a few minutes, she placed the tray on the night stand and poured herself a cup. Gratefully sipping from the delicate bone china cup, she let herself sink back against the soft cushions of one the chairs and stared at the fury of the elements outside…presented in all its glory through the protective glass of the French doors. She didn't know how long she stared at the rain or when exactly she succumbed to the exhaustion that made her pale skin even sallower. She wasn't aware of the agile hands that caught the cup before it fell from her limp fingers nor was she aware of the fingers that brushed back gently the strands of hair that fell across her cheeks. She didn't notice the shift in her position when she was lifted from the chair and cradled in a pair of powerful, albeit cool arms that carried her to her bed and tenderly tucked her beneath the comforting warmth her quilt. And as she lay in the loose cage of enfolding arms and silk, Bella found herself lost in the most unusual of dreams.

* * *

**EDWARD**

He couldn't resist…the knowledge that his heart's greatest desire resides no farther than a few feet was a potent temptation he was powerless to defend against…especially when his mind constantly reminds him that all that stood between them was a flimsy sheet of wood…

He entered the room stealthily, striving to be as quiet as the very night, guarding against alarming the room's sole occupant, eager as he was to act the part of an unknown observer until he deemed it apt to reveal himself. For now, his presence must be kept a secret from her. He came in just in time to catch the delicate bone china cup that slipped from her limp fingers as she finally succumbed to the fatigue of her long journey.

**_And what a long journey it has been, hasn't it Beloved…? I promise…they will not take you away from me…I will never allow them to part us again…now that you're finally home…_**

Cautiously, ever gently he carried her in his arms, his entire frame giving into an uncharacteristic shiver as skin brushed against skin…hers against his…gritting his teeth, he stilled his own breath, anxious that he has given his presence away with the tremor that assailed him with the barest contact with her flesh.

With a sigh, he shifted her in his arms, ensuring her every comfort as he turned to bring her to her bed. He kept his movements slow…what would have taken him in a blink of an eye, he now found a way to stretch into interminable minutes…wanting to make the moment last a bit longer…eager to make the experience one to linger in his mind as he savored the warm weight of her as he cradled her ever closer…taking pleasure in the realness of her presence in his arms, surrendering to the impulse to bury his nose into the fragrant mass of her unbound hair, resisting as best as he can the even wilder surge of possessiveness within him that demands that he do more than kiss the autumn colored mane.

**_You are finally in my arms Beloved…finally I have you near enough for my touch to know you…for my eyes to feast on your beauty…for my heart to know what it feels like to be whole again…if only you could know me as I know you…if only Beloved…if you remember as I do…_**

He placed her gently onto the bed, marveling at how her skin glowed against the indigo silk sheets even against the rain-darkened room, loathe to part with her so soon. With a deft move, he pulled the thick satin quilt over her frame before lowering himself to the side of her, keeping his arms curled around her, breathing in her exhalations, soothed beyond imagining at the feel of her living essence as it bathed him in her very presence. He settled a bit more of his weight into the bed, careful as ever not to disrupt her slumber as he lost himself to the memory of those early days.

* * *

_BELLA DREAMING POV_

_She found herself walking along a rustic path made of cobbled stones and then smooth marble…it changed as she moved forward into the slowly unfolding scene until the images became clearer. The inner courtyard her feet brought her to was lined with bushes and flowerbeds unlike any she has seen before. _

_She was aware that while she looked around her—aware and alert to the minute undulations of her form—some relatively autonomous section of her mind is telling her that she is not really part of this existence. She was dreaming and that whatever thoughts she entertained will be tainted by the influences of her subconscious. And while her intellect argued with her dreaming self, some part of her kept track to the fact that her dreaming self was feeling a wave of unease over her decision to travel to what seemed to be her father's homeland. _

_She found herself entering a stone archway that led to the Great Hall at the center of the village. As always the sight of the cobblestone path soothed some unknown, though not wholly unfamiliar part of her. It reminded her of the many halls of Winterlance, the summer house where she spent much of her childhood, although her home had an almost indefinable air of muted charm in its many courtyards._

_As she entered the hall, she was made aware that her presence would rouse some speculation. Eyes followed her, cast surreptitiously beneath the fall of lashes. She was still fairly new, and though the past few days has been uneventful, she was still very much a stranger in their midst. Even within people of her own kind, she felt very much the divide that separates her from the rest of the populace. Bowing to the assembly at the table, she decided to wait for her god at the garden located behind the main mess hall. Few people would comment on her choice to remain alone...Iakov being known to be extremely protective of his siblings and old family friends had made it known that any offense done towards her would have unfortunate consequences for the rest of the villagers. They would breathe better if she wasn't around to cause untimely or unprovoked offense._

_Choosing a secluded area near the heap of wildflowers, she sat on one of the many stone benches that were scattered along the garden path. She leaned down to arrange the folds of her gown, dispensing with the need to wear the heavy black robe. As she focused on arranging the silken cloth, her attention was called by another presence. She raised her head to turn and look at whatever it was that called to her._

_She found herself face to face with a startling pair of gem-like eyes._

_He stood against the backdrop of towering trees without stirring. He stood perfectly still, like a three dimensional wax figure come to life. Bella's conscious mind catalogued the look as one belonging to the 18th century. His unusual coloring and graceful stillness highlighted his otherworldly appeal making the bronze colored mane and golden eyes colored eyes both haunting and spellbinding._

_ The most striking thing about him, other than the pale coloring of his eyes, skin and hair, was his stillness. He didn't waver or twitch in the slightest. He was poised motionless, as if he knew exactly what will happen next, as if each breath was a carefully choreographed move, executed at a precise time and manner._

_ He was clothed in the fashion of days long gone. Black velvet long coat ,black pants, shiny half-boots, snowy white linen shirt and a black silk cravat completed the rather arresting ensemble. In his hand, covered by immaculate white gloves, was an ebony walking stick topped by a wolf's head._

_ He remained at the fringes of her view. If he made note of her awareness, he made no acknowledgement of it. He continued to watch without making a single solitary sound. She didn't know what to make of the man that stood just outside the circle of light that flickered weakly in the garden. There was something strangely familiar about him...though what it was exactly escapes her the moment...Something that hinted at danger and inevitability…fierce nature and destiny...an air of ruthlessness and icy stillness...It was then that she noticed that his pallor was like that of a marble statue...he looked too pale for a human. His face was smooth and polished like carved ivory, his hair despite its fiery hue was cold and lifeless in the winds...only his eyes seemed alive. They were lit from within as if by an internal bonfire that has raged for a millennia…beautiful as like gems lit from within...beautiful and haunting in the dying light of the fading sun._

_

* * *

EDWARD_

_It was her scent that called to him...the perfume of her blood that made his dead heart quicken...making him aware of her presence the moment she crossed the threshold of the Great Hall. The scent was enough to draw him out from the shadows from whence he was prepared to spend the remainder of the day until night finally consumes the Hall._

_The scent called to her with the strength of a Siren's call. Blood far more pure than any he has ever taken...blood untainted with those of the unmistakable patina of deceit or lies...__**iinnocent blood**__...blood very much alive...pulsing like the drumbeats played a hundred miles away from here he perched like a stalking predator...flowing though her veins just beneath her unbroken skin..caged with her body like the fluttering heartbeat of a child…pure…__**irresistible**__. _

_He dared to raise his eyes in the glare of a garden half-lit with the candle's light. Their illumination was weak enough to obscure his form slightly but illuminate him enough to highlight his unusual eyes and hair._

_His head was tilted to the side, as was his custom. The pose seems to strike the right balance between someone plagued with ennui and curiosity. His eyes however remained on the flame-haired creature that sat on the farthest side of the perfumed space...the one whose blood calls to him ever so seductively from her pose against that cold, lifeless wall._

_His eyes were still focused on the autumn-haired immortal when his senses alerted him to a couple of things. First, was that there was another pair of eyes that were currently perusing his person. This one belonged to the son of one of the Elders. He made no move to acknowledge his presence. There would be time enough to extend his introductions. A stranger walking in their midst would be hard-pressed to ignore especially since he was so much more than just a mere stranger._

_His prey has arrived. Iakov has come to give answer to the question that he has been tasked to inquire. He was about to find his destiny. He is about to find HER. Finally._


End file.
